He's already a sargeant!

Looks like the cubicle army has a new addition! Thanks to my boss, Dwight now has a Michael Scott to serve beside. It's what the holidays are all about, isn't it?

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Saga of the lamp

Have I been withholding my writings in a show of support for the striking WGA members? Sure, let's go with that.

However, it stops now. (My withholding, not my support. Stay strong, we're all on the same page, etc.)

Once upon a time, I bought a lamp. It was, of course, from IKEA. I am a twenty-something city dweller, after all. It was a nice little table lamp with a pull chain and cool little glass globule over the bulb. I wish I could find a picture of it, but suffice it to say that it did not look anything like this:

This was the sight that greeted me as I returned home the day we had maids clean our apartment. Having maids come was the second-best decision the apartment has ever made and the best is when we had them clean the first time.

Unfortunately, this time was not so awesome. They tried to work an hour past when Tara told them to stop and also, quite obviously, broke my lamp. However, they made no mention of the incident, left no note and I guess just hoped that I wouldn't notice that my cool lamp had been reduced to a bulb on a stick. I would give them credit for cleaning up the broken glass, but that is their job.

So Tara called to complain, there was a whole rigmarole where she tried to cancel her check but they had already cashed it and a couple days later I walk into my room and see this:
Apparently the two maids came back and, having a change of heart but not merely wanting to reimburse me for the cost of the lamp, decided to take my decor into their own hands and simply buy me a new one.

They then asked Tara if they could have the old one. If they could have the old one.

It's now the belief of the apartment that they simply were jealous of the lamp, stole the globule and concocted this elaborate scheme to obtain the base and reassemble the lamp later.

So I have a new lamp now. It's okay. The frosted glass is a little much, but it's a touch lamp and that reminds me of old times and grandmothers' houses, so that's fun.

The moral of the story is to not trust maids, but I bet most of you knew that already.

Why We Fight

As I am tangentially connected* to the entertainment industry, a couple of family members have asked me what this Writer's strike is all about. Here it is, in simple terms. It's about getting compensated fairly for your work, regardless of the medium.

It's a tough pill to swallow, knowing that this Thursday will be the last new episode of The Office for a while, maybe for the season. But the cause is just.

I proudly support the Writers Guild of America.


*Connected is in the loosest possible of meanings here. If the entertainment industry were playing in Wrigley Field, I would be trying to peer through the fence at Fenway**.

**No, I don't know why the entertainment industry is playing baseball in my analogy. Let's just be proud that I know something about baseball and move on.

I mean, come on

This is a souvenir you can purchase to remember your experiences at a museum of science. Seriously.

You get an 8x10", four wallet-sized pics and a keychain.

To paraphrase Luke, "If there's a plausible center of the universe, you're at the exhibit that it's farthest from."

An elegant weapon from a more civilized age

So...yes. Star Wars at a museum. Gazing rapturously at Star Wars memorabilia under the auspices of learning.

It is a combination most profound. Surely the boon of many a field-tripping youngster.

After a few conciliatory attempts at building a mag-lev vehicle out of Legos, we abandoned all pretenses of being there to learn and proceeded to merely enjoy. Original costumes, props, models and what were essentially our childhood dreams made tangible were on display.

Rebecca, Josh and I enjoyed our time there most thoroughly. Hooray for Star Wars, a half-hearted thumbs-up for science, mostly because I couldn't get my stupid mag-lev vehicle to work right.

Wars between stars

Oh man, so much to talk about. I turned a quarter of a century and celebrated by enjoying culture. The Sparrow, The Decemberists, Dashboard Confessional, Comedians of Comedy - all perhaps deserving a post of their own. Whether they will in fact get one remains to be seen. I have little photo evidence to prove I was at any of the above events. Suffice it to say - they were all great.

But nothing was as great as this.

That's my brother. He's in charge of the spiritual development of youth.

More soon...

Portrait of a cube, part 1

My cubicle army is ready to mobilize at a moment's notice. You might recognize Clango from previous musings, but the rest are new, at least to you. That's obviously Bobblehead Dwight (not representing the current unshaven, hilariously downtrodden Dwight), a turtle with a bouncy neck and a Sacagawea dollar stood on its edge.

They are a mighty force. Mess with them at your own peril.

Okay, the coin is maybe not as intimidating, but I keep it around so my space is more like the Batcave.

There's got to be a drinking establishment called The Space Bar, right?

I've been trying to break a bad habit recently.

It's nothing scandalous. It's not gambling or drinking or even cracking my knuckles. I don't think I'll ever stop doing any of those things. I have written proof from 3rd-5th grade that my New Year's Resolution was to stop cracking my knuckles. If the sheer willpower of a 4th grader couldn't do it, I doubt it'll ever happen. In fact, it's gotten worse. I now pop my knees. I will be in a wheelchair by the age of 38.

No, this is a simple typing habit, one that I've been doing ever since I learned the skill from Mavis Beacon. I hit the space bar twice after every period. But according to a book by some writer who is not Mork,this is incorrect.

It is not the most amazing of differences. It is the difference between this. And this*. You see my point.

Really, I wouldn't even bother except that it occasionally does mess with layout, but mostly with GChat and away messages. And that stuff is important. So I am breaking it as we speak.

It should be noted that Lynette told me about this years ago and I am just now heeding her words. I hope you're happy, Lynette.


* After posting a couple times and editing, I have realized that Blogger will automatically edit my double-spacebar-hitting into one. So what the heck was the point of me trying.

Friday in the park with Niki (and Rebecca)

Lest the dear reader think that I am insinuating that nothing exciting is happening in MY life, allow me to direct the dear reader to think again.

On a recent (read: almost a month ago) Friday, Rebecca and I ventured outside our comfortable neighborhood to experience some culture.

It should be noted at this point that our preferred form of culture is giant skull sculptures.
These are the sculptures of Niki de Saint Phalle, on display at the Garfield Park Conservatory. They are fun and colorful and some of them are climbable.

This picture is humourous because it appears that I am riding the giant seal backwards.

The sculptures are placed all throughout the gardens, both inside and out. Some are just for looking, but some are also for climbing and sitting. Most of them are for fun picture taking, as Rebecca and I discovered. These are but a small sample.

This picture is humourous because I was directed to make the flower look like it was Rebecca's thought.


It was a beautiful day and much fun was had. It's there through the end of October and is highly recommended for any visitors to our fair city.

This picture is humourous because we are in the belly of a giant cat and yet are not being digested.

More exciting things about my brother's life

I hope I'm not breaking some sort of press embargo with these pictures, but I had them and thought they were worth sharing.

This is Cocoa. She is a good puppy. She regrettably does not belong to me but instead to Josh and Allyn, who I suppose are more suited at this point for dog ownership anyway.

Cocoa enjoys other dogs, chewing on PS2 cables and not responding to her name. She is learning how to bark.

Cocoa is an excellent poser. And by that I mean she stands still for pictures, not that she pretends to enjoy punk music.

They are some seriously yellow walls

I visited my brother and his wife over Labor Day weekend to see their new house, new workplace and new puppy*. My dad reminded me that I should take this picture to complete the series (of two.)

Josh: You're still an idiot.

Well, that may be, but I'm an idiot who's about to plug the relaunching of your blog, so be cool.

That's right, computers. Josh's blog, Life in the Lane, long thought dead, is alive again. Does this make it a zombie blog? Should you immediately get up the stairs, then destroy the stairs**? You can decide.

I believe it will be an insightful look into the world of a youth pastor as he tries to make his way in the world and teach his dog to recognize her name***.


*She deserves her own post, which is coming soon.
**#6 of the Top 10 rules contained within the Zombie Survival Guide. I have been made fun of for taking this book so seriously. We'll see who's laughing when you all get infected.
***Project status: ambivalent.

Can't think of a thing

One of the perks of the job I hold currently is the occasional fun team outing. Our clients were in town this week and we had a grand time watching the Cubs game from a nearby rooftop.

A great view, no rain and a come-from-behind Dodgers win. What more could you ask for?

Improving on Garfield, Part 1

A denizen of a message board recently posited a theory that Garfield's humor can be assumed to be at a level of 0. Therefore any attempt to alter or recontextualize the strip cannot help but improve upon it.

Method 1: Assume that Garfield has been dead or starving to death since 1989.

A series of strips published just before Halloween in 1989 paints a startling picture of a world in which Garfield's house is abandoned and his friends have disappeared.

While Jon Davis apparently meant the series as a comment on the fear of loneliness, it make things more palatable to imagine the present banal strips as the last defense mechanisms of a starving cat in the throes of denial.

Method 2: The Crazy Jon theory


Removing all of Garfield's thought bubbles places the focus on Jon Arbuckle and results in a more surreal and occasionally hilarious comic strip. More examples can be found by clicking on the picture and by clicking here and here.

Method 3: Consider it a lost cause and move on.

This is probably for the best, but it's fun to freak Tara out with the "Garfield is Dead" theory.



Update:

Method 4: Condense the entire strip to one panel.


Nice.

Method 5: Googly Eyes

Yikes.

It's just science

There's been a bit of a cleaning kick around the ol' apartment recently, which is to say that there's been slightly more cleaning than none at all.

I should have done a before and after picture of my shower, but that would have been too embarrassing. Let's just say it's now much less...mildewy.

This particular adventure started when I wanted something to drink other than the milk and juice I had in the fridge. So I started asking the available roommates whose 2-liter of Sprite Zero was in there. Turns out it was no one's.

This gets Jon all curious about what might be in that paper bag sitting in the fridge. Well, the picture speaks for itself. We have reason to believe it was once Chinese takeout, but only from the container can anything about the contents be determined. The material itself no longer resembles anything other than a solid foam mold that you stick plastic flower stems into.

We talked about it when Tara got home. In the course of the conversation, we determined that it was over a year old.

And it was Jon's.

The aftermath

So...yeah. Big storm in Chicago on Thursday. I'm fine, the apartment is fine, the car is fine, but all these pics are from the neighborhood. Guess we were pretty fortunate to not have trees around.

Pretty chump move from the trees, in my opinion. Falling down. Come on, trees.

Those two guys are very slowly hacking the tree to bits. Sorry, tree. You got yourself into this.

I mean, that's a big trunk that just decided it was done supporting itself. Yikes.

The sky was quite pretty today. Funny.

At least he realizes it's a joke at this point. At least I think he does.

Okay, now imagine a dozen big dudes in matching black suits with earpieces patrolling the sidewalk.

Also, a miniature red carpet.

Add a couple of those big searchlights to shoot into the sky to tell the world that something exciting is happening and if only they could triangulate the location of those searchlights, maybe they too could join in the excitement.

If your imagination is still intact, add to it the fact that R.Kelly was presumably in the vicinity.

Now you're starting to get a sense of the level of excitement on Southport last night. I presume that it was a sort of premiere for the new chapters of his epic urban operetta "Trapped in the Closet."

I would have just taken a picture of the excitement rather than the aftermath, but I don't think the suited dudes would have stood for it.

It's not really him. Well, it could be.

I was feeling a deficiency of whatever vitamin you get from direct sunlight, so I took my lunch to the plaza and ate outside today.

Lenny Kravitz was nonplussed.

That's a promise I make to you, the American people

Look, I've got nothing against the French as a whole, but this is ridiculous.

The name, yes. Obviously. But also the fact that a wanna-be French bistro is touting its quesadillas.

I will never eat here.

It is truly a historic day

My brother Josh has somehow conned his way into a position as Youth Minister at a church in northern Illinois. Yesterday, he informed me that I made the cut to be some sort of beneficiary and I should call him with important information that he should probably already know.

Josh: Associate Pastor in charge of Youth Ministry.
Me: Really? That's how you're going to answer the phone?
Josh: I haven't worked it out entirely. It's my second day.

It should be noted that most of his first day was taken up with hiking. Apparently, youth minister office hours = hiking on the clock.

Me: Hey, this is pretty fun. I'm calling your work phone from my work phone. I even had to get past your receptionist.
Josh: Mom would probably want a picture of this moment, if only she could figure out how.
Me: I'll just take a picture of me on the phone and you take a picture of you and we'll put them together in post. I'm getting my camera now.

(I step away from the mic to get my camera.)

Me: Okay, I'm taking the picture now...done. I took it. Did you take yours?
Josh: ...
Josh: You're an idiot.

Start the skinny jokes

Are we still in the dog days of summer? I should look up what that means. I can't imagine it just implies there are dogs around. That doesn't seem special at all. There are always dogs around.

Ah, we certainly are still in them.

At any rate, it's been really hot in Chicago recently. As much as I longed for these days in February, now I find myself just longing for a time when I can walk home without having to change shirts afterwards.

When I wait for the bus in the morning, I seek out whatever shade I can. The above picture is my view on most mornings. It's what passes for Chicago foliage on certain corners.

But necessary

This is just getting ridiculous.

Wanted: some peace and quiet, dagnabit!

This weekend, among many other exciting adventures, our neighborhood turned Hollywood as the motion picture Wanted, starring Morgan Freeman and Angelina Jolie, filmed nearby.

On Saturday there were a few big trucks around and Tara, swept up in the excitement, took Jon and my cousin Quinn to investigate. They hoped to see at least a glimpse of a big star but caught only "a lot of wires."

On Sunday things got even more exciting as the streets got even more crowded. The picture is a view from my window at a trailer below. Tara, again swept up in the excitement, proclaimed it to be an actor's trailer. We quickly decided it was Morgan Freeman's.

My mind quickly drifted into daydreamland. I was walking down the steps on the way to the outside world when Mr. Narration himself stepped out of the trailer. "Good morning, Mr. Freeman," I'd say nonchalantly. "It's an honor to have you in our neighborhood."

"Why thank you, young man," he'd reply. "How would you like to accompany me to the set? The actor playing my son just fell ill and I think you'd be a perfect replacement.* And please, call me Morgan." And we would be the best of friends for all of time!

Later, I really did walk downstairs and snuck a look in the trailer. It held mostly catering supplies.


* Don't overthink it.

Don't worry, kids. No spoilers.

Sorry for the lack of posts lately, everyone. I've got a bad case of Harry Potter Fever and in this day and age, that translates into a healthy case of spoiler-phobia.

Of course, this doesn't really explain why I haven't posted. It's not like I've been completely avoiding the Internet. Even if I had, it's not like I would run into spoilers on my own blog. I'd have to post them myself.

Let's just accept that my excuses are pointless and move on.

It has been quite a nerdy couple of weeks, however. I was silly enough to attend a midnight premiere of "Order of the Phoenix*" with some ComedySportz and Second City friends. I think I was the only one headed to a day job in the morning. That's how dedicated/reckless I am. And I reread "Half-Blood Prince" to get ready. And last night I watched "Goblet of Fire" on demand**.

Tonight I'm going to a midnight book release of the seventh and final book. I'm looking forward to some costumes and general silliness.

Boy, this is a great time to be a nerd.


* Strange midnight premiere phenomena: the entire crowd turning into a "Saved By the Bell" studio audience and oooohing when Harry and Cho kissed. Come on, people. We've all read the books. Were you surprised by this turn of events?

** Hey, On Demand is a fun thing. Rebecca thinks Harry Potter is dumb but thinks Star Wars is awesome, so it balances. When we discovered all the Star Wars episodes were available free through HBO On Demand, we watched Eps. III, V and VI in the span of a couple weekends. What a cool girlfriend I have***.

*** Haven't done the footnote bit in a while****. It's still fun.

***** Who am I kidding, I haven't posted in a while.

I guessed it right away

The men of ComedySportz (heretoafter known as Champion's Club) met at Lincoln Square Lanes for a long-awaited outing last night. The ladies of CSz meet fairly regularly for fun times. The guys never do. So this was a big deal, and the 7 people who came really enjoyed themselves.

In this picture, Martin is ironically using the hand dryer.

Me: I'm always surprised to discover that the hand dryer still exists. In my mind, it's solely a conceit for improvisers to signify a setting or activity.
Martin: Ah, like so many things in life.

It is kind of a sad truth. I can think of a few things where I knew of the joke before I knew of the reality, Joe Cocker first and foremost among them.

Adventures in advance promotion

Rebecca and I had about an hour to kill before we saw "Knocked Up" the other night. (It was very funny and sweet, but 2 hours and 9 minutes? Come on, Apatow. Save some jokes for the DVD.)

Anyway, we amused ourselves by taking pictures of each other with the various large promotional pieces scattered around the lobby.

We decided to skip the large "Balls of Fury" cutout, even though it had a designated space where you could stand and stick your head through so it looked like you were in the cast. Neither of us even wanted to pretend to be in that movie.

I took a picture with the Underdog poster, but even though I enjoy Jason Lee, a live-action flying dog does nothing but blaspheme yet another treasured childhood memory, so I will refrain from sharing that here.

After about 15 minutes of this nonsense, we decided to go upstairs to the theaters. There we found a Galaga machine and immediately regretted wasting those 15 minutes.

Brilliant, the Vic. Just brilliant.

Yep. Those certainly are two movies with motorcycles in them.

It's normally Concordes. That's the joke.

This is the latest installment of me telling everyone who reads this about what's happening in my life by sharing a funny video I found on the Internet.

Flight of the Conchords is New Zealand's fourth most popular folk-comedy duo. And they've parlayed that impressive standing into a series on HBO. You can watch the entire first episode on the Internet. If the first episode is any indication, it should be pretty great.

After I stumbled upon that episode, I watched everything I could find of theirs on YouTube, which includes some pretty great songs like the full version of The Humans are Dead, Business Time and the Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros.

I realize I'm probably pretty late to this train. If so, why has no one informed me about this train? Were there not tickets available at an earlier time? Was there a closer stop to my apartment than the one I found? Please, people. Trains like this need to be boarded.

(S)Kid nation

You guys, this is what reality programming is all about. Intricate Machiavellian social experiments, broadcast for the enlightenment of Americans.

Starring 40 children.

Get ready to cheer, cry and be appalled at the parents who would let their child be on this show. Seriously, why couldn't you just send your kids to summer camp like the rest of your book club?

10 years of improv communism

As you may infer from the logo, The Playground is celebrating its 10th Anniversary this week. The Senate was asked to open last night's show, which was an honor we jumped upon with vigorous abandon, if indeed that is something one can do. It is possible I am combining several phrases for effect.

At any rate, The Playground is a great theater that has been a wonderful place to perform in my relatively short time in the city. And it's the nation's first non-profit improv co-op. So that's something. Take that, other theaters who have actual owners.

Check this place out if you're ever in town, but especially this week. It's a great place and I hope it's around for another 10 years and more.


In other news, my brother just called. He's hanging around LAX on a layover before he and his wife go to Hawaii. Within three minutes, he met Supernanny and saw Calista Flockhart and Rob Lowe.

I said he should have asked Rob Lowe about Atomic Train. He said that, in his mind, he punched Rob Lowe in the face.

What a magical fairyland!

This was a children's show?

Seriously, you guys. I don't know why we weren't more terrified of this show at the time. Because looking at it now, we should have run for our lives.

Maybe it's the mostly black backgrounds, signifying that this show is taking place in some kind of vortex where no light dare show its face.

Maybe it's the super-creepy puppets with tall teeth and horrible hair and faces ripped from the very fabric of evil itself.

Maybe it's the overall sense of foreboding that comes from that echoing "Hall of Fame." *shiver*

Regardless, it was, and remains to be, a very strange show. But I guess it taught me about letters?

Thanks for the nightmares, Letter People!



P.S. And it was produced by KETC in St. Louis? I trusted you, KETC!

P.P.S. Check out this one for a Mr. X who talks like Jimmy Stewart and then the trippiest Letter People song EVER. No wonder it never made it to air.

On the shoulders of (kinda short) giants

So the ComedySportz CIF show went really well, thanks to a house full of screaming high school band kids. We get it, band geeks. Say a musical term and you'll scream in recognition. Name a specific instrument and that section will cheer with pride. If that section is two or less people (I'm looking at you, Sousaphones), those two dudes will stand up and pump their arms in representation of all Sousaphone players everywhere.

It's almost Pavlovian at this point. And I love it.

It was still a great show even apart from the easily excitable band kids. I was really honored to be chosen to play in the CIF show with MadTV's Frank Caeti*. I think I was the only person onstage who had been playing with CSz for less than 4 or 5 years. Maybe all the other newbies were busy doing their one-person show and getting a development deal with Comedy Central, I don't know. But I still feel pretty proud about it.

It's still cool to feel proud about things, right guys? Shut up.


* Super nice guy.

He played Sweetchuck

This week is the Chicago Improv Festival, which means that a lot of cool shows are going on and a few comedy celebrities are hanging about. This makes for pretty fun times. Unfortunately, the only shows I have time to go to are the ones that I'm in.

Which of course isn't bad. I'm very proud to be a part of two shows in CIF this year. One, pictured above, was on Wednesday - a special edition of The Improv Match Game. Tim Kazurinsky (not pictured) of SNL and Police Academy fame, played on the panel and Tim Meadows was seen to be hanging around the bar*.

Check out this clip of The Improv Match Game on WGN Morning News. Proof that sometimes, even morning newscasters can be stupid. (You'll notice I played no part in it. I'm the announcer for The IMG, so there was really nothing for me to do. Plus it was super early.)

And then tonight, I'm in the offical ComedySportz entry into CIF. I'll be playing against a team captained by MadTV's Frank Caeti. Frank was a great ComedySportz player when he was in Chicago and has been a champion for (and of) the theater ever since, so I'm really looking forward to it.


* It's annoying, but there seem to be a lot of Tims in comedy. Aside from those two examples, I can think of at least 5 or 6 other Tims in the Chicago improv scene off the top of my head. Are Tims more sociologically predisposed to be funny? Or at least desire attention? Someone should do a study.

Who wouldn't want to swing on a star, really.

I'm not entirely sure what to make of this one. I come to you, my friends of discerning and sharply-honed taste in all matters of popular culture.

Stardust is, ostensibly, a major motion picture. I can only assume that it will be released in theaters somewhere around the vicinity of August 10th.

You may now take a couple minutes to enjoy the trailer for said motion picture.

On the surface, it has many elements that seem to imply quality. It's based on a graphic novel by Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess. That's some solid geek cred right there. It has, if not a blockbuster main cast, at least some wonderful secondary casting: Ricky Gervais, as pretty much the same guy as always. And I think the world has waited quite long enough to see Robert DeNiro as a sky pirate, thank you. Plus, it's a magical world of fantasy and adventure. What more could you want?

Here then, are my questions:

1) Should we be excited?
2) If so, why aren't we excited yet?

I just happened to find this trailer during my weekly perusal of the Apple trailer site. This is not the sort of thing one should stumble upon whilst carousing about the Interwebs. That pleasure is reserved for things like Russian Ark (96-minute take, cooler in idea than in execution) or discovering that they made a sequel to Cube.

I know that August leaves a lot of time for a big marketing push, but still. For a movie that looks as expensive as this one does, you would think the name would come up from time to time. People have been talking about Transformers for some time now and we're just starting to get official trailers and whatnot.

Why then, has there been no mention of DeNiro as a sky pirate?

Perhaps people have been talking about Stardust and I merely assumed they were speaking of the Ziggy variety. If that is the case, I do not apologize. It is an excellent song.

See, here's the exception

Happy anniversary, Rebecca. We did it! A picture with a quilt in the background! Hooray!

You know what's NOT typical? Ro getting all mad about stuff.

MUTEMATH - "Typical"

Hey, look everybody! A really cool music video! Nothing to get upset about here!

Sure, the filming stuff then playing it backward thing has been done (see: Coldplay's "The Scientist," among others), but it's still pretty cool! Certainly nothing to get all riled up about! No sir. No excessive outbursts needed in the comment section of THIS post!

Seriously though. People are mad because I don't talk much about or post pictures of my girlfriend (who is, without a doubt, pretty awesome)? Here's why:

a) I'm not a 14-year-old with a Livejournal. Some things are private.
b) It would make Ro happy. From here on out, I'm basing all blog (and really, life) choices on how much they could potentially frustrate Ro. Because I think it's pretty funny.
c) Rebecca has yet to have a picture taken of her in this lifetime that she would approve for public consumption. I like them, but she's picky.

So it's doubtful that you'll be seeing much of her, not because I'm not proud, but because I'm not a jerk.

Of course, there are exceptions to every rule...


P.S. That is a pretty cool video, right? Come on.

Seriously, she was good

This is Addie. Well, technically it's Addie and me, but I figured most of you would recognize me. Addie is the dog.

I met Addie when I went with my girlfriend Rebecca to visit her family in Texas over Easter. Addie is a relatively new addition to the family, so both Rebecca and I were meeting her for the first time. We learned many things about her, such as:

• Her favorite toy is a little tire on a rope, which she will slobber all over and then dare you to grab it from her mouth.
• She is an excellent jumper, especially when attempting to get the tire on a rope.
• Just when I've calmed her down enough to pet her, she can be riled up again by Rebecca singing Abba songs and excitedly waving her arms. She will then jump some more. (Addie, not Rebecca.)
• She is easily excitable, especially by snow.
  

Yes, snow. Texas over Easter weekend = 3 inches of snow. Addie liked to eat it.

Most of my pictures from the weekend are of Addie because she was such a good girl.

It sounds like Brave Saint Saturn

It's possible that working in an office for a year has caused me to devolve to the point where funny pictures of cats with captions are now hilarious to me. If that is the case, I apologize.

But I don't think Myrtle in the next cube over would find Astro Cat on a Moog quite as funny as I do. And that makes me feel pretty okay about it.

I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER? - Making captioned pictures of adorable animals safe again. For all of us.

It's not delivery, it's cumbersome

So Tara, my roommate and bane of my existence, does this promotion for DiGiorno's last weekend. Apparently, she was paid in free samples. This is our freezer now.

Thanks for making me move a bunch of stuff around to get to my Hot Pockets, td. Geez.

P.S. Can I have one? Or are they all for Braders*?

*Our other roommate who makes an oven pizza pretty much every night. He probably wet himself when he opened the freezer door and saw that. Right, Braders? Come on.