Patch McGillicutty

I know I said I would suddenly do tons of posts and catch up.  Sometimes I say things I don't mean.  Maybe I still will.  This summer kicked my butt.  Maybe I'll post about that sometime.  Maybe not.

Here's something else, though.  I was asked to play the organ for a funeral the other day.  The guy that died was an old guy in my ward.  I recognized his name, but couldn't picture what he looked like.  When I asked for a description I was told that he wore an eyepatch.  It seems like I'd notice someone wearing an eyepatch at church, but this did not help me.  Come to think of it, I don't really know any of the old men in my ward.  Maybe because I'm in the Young Women?  Not part of my demo.

I showed up 20 minutes early to play prelude, which is pretty amazing for me.  I thought I'd have plenty of time to figure out the organ (it's been awhile), but lots of people were already there, so I went into panic-mode and just settled on some weird pre-set stops that weren't overly loud.  This story isn't about my failure as an organist (but I definitely have one of those to share at another time.....). I bring this up because in my panic, I forgot to get a program, which would have been hugely helpful in knowing when I was supposed to play, but also because I wanted to see a picture of the guy everyone was talking about.

Everyone loved this guy, seems like.  His son and daughters spoke, and several of his grandchildren.  They were sweet.  They all reiterated certain themes about this man's characteristics.  He was a perfectionist.  His garage was so clean you could have a picnic on the floor.  His motto was, "If you take care of your things, they will take care of you."  His fridge was 55 years old and still running.  His carpet was 30 years old and still in great shape.  His cars never broke down.  He was adamant about being on time, and actually if you were "on time" instead of early, you were late.  He was up at the crack of dawn everyday and he worked all day long.  He never sat down.  Even at the end of his life when he was not very lucid, no one could make him sit down.  He loved to work.

As I sat there listening, I was thinking, "It's like I have a twin!"  Actually, I was wondering what my funeral would sound like on those same topics.  "She was always late, and I'm talking ALWAYS.  If she was ever on time, it was purely accidental."  "You could have a picnic on the floor of her garage, if you didn't mind sitting on a whole lot of crap."  "She was the absolute best at sitting!   She could watch TV for hours uninterrupted."  So maybe his talents are not my strong suits.  We all have different things we're good at, right?  Actually, a couple kids/grandkids mentioned how he threatened them with his belt.  I can proudly say that I have never done that.  (I rarely wear belts.)  Take that, perfect old guy!

"She was weirdly competitive with old men that have died."

I went home and found a picture of him online.  Still didn't recognize him.  Covered one of his eyes and.........nope, still nothing.  But I want to thank that guy for magnifying my faults and making me sad.  I mean, helping me recognize some ways I can improve myself!  Yay!

Midlife crisis begins now.  :)  :)  :)  :/

Anon M. S.

Wow, it's been awhile.  I think I've forgotten how to blog.  I've had some computer issues, some camera issues, and some not-feeling-like-blogging issues.  But looking through my old posts makes me remember so many things that I would have forgotten, so I realize I should do it more.  I'll probably be attempting the dreaded "blog catch-up."  Like two years worth.  Don't you hate it when people catch up on their blogs?  Me too.  But I feel it must be done.  Get ready for Christmas in July.      

Let's ease into things with some small stuff.  I really can't believe it's the end of the school year.  I feel like I just barely took this picture on the first day of school.

They look so young!  In 9 months they've grown up so much.  It's freaking me out.

On Fridays I go to the kids' school and trade the take home books for Oliver's class.  Today was my last day doing that.  It was also the last day I mentally inserted an "M." as Anon's middle initial.

Well, that's all for now.  Baby steps.

Crazy Christmas Cookie Craftery

Hi.  I guess I'm blogging again.  That last dumb post was my triumphant return, in case you didn't realize.  Don't call it a comeback!  I been here for years.  Rockin' my peers and puttin' suckas in fear.  (That was for you, LL Cool J fans).  I've been meaning to post other stuff, but then I got busy doing a crazy thing.  I saw in a Macey's (grocery store) ad that they were having a gingerbread house contest, with a $500 first prize, and my brain began obsessing about how I HAD to do it.  My brain tends to have a mind of its own.  So I spent the last month planning, checking out gingerbread house books from the library, photocopying and  laminating patterns, testing gingerbread recipes, and pretty much neglecting all other household duties.  I put my all into this project, and was certain that I would at least take home the $100 third prize.  That is until I saw some of the other entries.  And then my spirit was crushed irrevocably.  But that's ok.  I had fun doing it, and I proved to myself that I could do it, and golly gee, winning isn't everything, right?  : /

Anyway, here it is, my glorious Cupcake Cookie Christmas Cottage:

It lights up and everything! ( Jellybean walkway, butterscotch
and cinnamon hard candy windows, Reese's peanut butter cup cupcakes,
cotton candy chimney smoke)

Reindeer

Frosting Trees / Pretzel Logs

Fondant Snowmen

Back

They announce the winners this Thursday.  It will be on display until Dec. 17, so if you're ever at Macey's in Orem, go see it.  And "accidentally" knock over the big castle to the left of it.  j/k  That wouldn't be a very Christmasy thing to do.

Utah County Medium

Rubbing you the right way since 1990

You guys.  I have a gift.  It's something I've known about for awhile, but I wasn't sure if I was just making it up.   Then something happened the other night that proved to me definitively that it is REAL.   K.  Sometimes the name of a singer or band will come to my mind during the day, and I'll think, "Hmm.....I haven't heard anything about them for a long time.  I wonder what they're doing?"  And then that very night, I will see them on a talk show, or Access Hollywood will mention their new album.   WEIRD, HUH.

You're thinking, "Mandi, that's cool, but there must be some explanation.  Maybe radio stations were playing more of their songs in anticipation of their new album and that's why you thought of them?" NO.  I think of weird artists that are no longer on the radio, like Sade.  I thought to myself one day, "Remember Sade?  I kinda liked her.  I wonder why she doesn't make any new music."  And then that night she was singing her new song on Letterman.   Are you getting chills yet?

Well listen to this.  Last Friday, I suddenly thought of one of my favorite songs when I was 17.  It was "Rub You the Right Way" by Johnny Gill.  Anyone else out there a Johnny Gill fan??  I'm guessing no.  But I ADORED him.  So I thought about him several times that day and promised myself to a) put that song on my ipod, and b) look him up on the internet to see if he looks old.  No need to do that last part, because that night he was SITTING IN WITH THE BAND ON JIMMY FALLON!!!!!

I'm a little frightened by this power.  How best to share my gift with the world?  I only want to use it for good.  If you have any ideas, please let me know.

not my best work

It's Teacher Appreciation Week at Cascade Elementary, and all the teachers get their door decorated. For some reason at the beginning of the year, I signed up to do this. I think because April seemed like a looong way away. Mistake.

Anyway, once I got done with it and stepped back to evaluate, I started thanking my lucky stars that this was not for a high school class. I'm pretty sure my poster would be subject to some unfortunate crossing out of words to make a whole new and more interesting sentence.  Whoopsie.

message

Right before bed last night, I listened to our phone messages and there was this one:

There is a missing endangered person in your area.  We are looking for a 48 year old white male, 5' 10" 180 pounds.  He is bald with blue eyes.  He is schizophrenic and has been missing since march 7 at 9pm.  He left his home on foot, we do not know what he was wearing.  If you see him, please call the Provo Police Department.  Thank you.

Well, I hope he's ok, but......(yikes!!)  I kept imagining him at our window.  And then I decided to cross off sleep on my agenda for the night.

Oh how I've missed you.....

Sunday paper.  We haven't been getting the paper for awhile.  For a couple years we were getting it free from my grandma, but then it stopped coming.  No need to concern yourself with that part of the story.  The point is that we were faced with whether we should pay to get the paper again.  We decided against it, since we never actually read it.  The Monday thru Saturday papers were used solely for the crossword, defacing the Buckles cartoon (the stupidest comic strip to exist), and making a protective cover for the table during craft projects.  The Sunday paper was enjoyed the most, as there is an even bigger crossword, the Parade (entertainment news), my beloved coupons, and perhaps the Dave Barry column.  But we decided that even those things were not worth our money.

Anyway, lately I've been looking high and low on the internet for a razor coupon.  I cannot bring myself to pay full price for razors - they are so ridiculously expensive!  The cheap ones cut you to shreds, so you have to buy the nice ones, and if you can imagine the face I make when I balk at something (and I think you can), you know what I look like when I see the price of a Venus Embrace refill pack.   That look is also accompanied by a strong black woman saying, "oh hell no" in my head.  So I haven't bought razors for awhile.

The shaving requirements of men vs. women are really unfair.  Men complain all the time about shaving, but if you compare the square inch area of half of their face to our two legs - almost half of our body - they should feel lucky that that's all society requires of them.  Actually, it's not a requirement at all.  When men don't want to shave, they grow beards - winter beards, vacation beards, icky homeless guy beards......pretty much any reason is acceptable to grow a beard.  It is rugged and manly - a "style choice."  But when a woman decides to grow a "winter leg beard" it is deemed "gross."  Such an annoying double standard!

Ok, it's taking me a long time to get to my actual point.  The point is, we bought a Sunday paper so I could look for razor coupons.  And I forgot what else I have been missing.  The ADS.  Oh, the dear, sweet, ridiculous ads.  I came across a new one that I love.  I present to you, the Magnetic Slimming Panty!

No more lumps and lines!  Just tiny little bumps all over your butt and frontal area.  I already have a slimming undergarment like this that I refer to as my "sausage casing," but never did I think I would find one that healed me, too!   Paul, we need to start getting the paper again.

Speaking of slimming, I am trying to find a way to make me stay on a diet and exercise plan.  I can go hardcore for 2 weeks, but then I do the opposite of dieting and exercise hardcore for several more weeks.  It doesn't really get me anywhere.  I have this book called "100 Days of Weight Loss," and I thought to inspire me, I would put a marker board up on my fridge counting down my 100 days.  Paul decided he would make my numbers even more inspiring:




Can't wait for 97.

PAUL RECREATES A BAD PHOTO!!

Recently our friends Rachel and April mentioned that they were in the mood for a good photo reenactment.  It has been a long time.  It's hard for Paul and I to come to an agreement on which picture we're going to do, as it has to speak to both of us.  I was trying to think of something special to do for these lovely friends of ours, when something immediately popped into my mind.  About 2 years ago, April blogged about her family trip to Texas, and she posted some photos of her extended family playing Thanksgiving football on the beach.  One of her uncles really made an impression on me, and I have never forgotten him.  I hope that April will take this with the love that is inherent in a bad photo recreation.  May I present to you:  Uncle Bruce.

 

"I'm Open!" (to fashion suggestions)

And Paul:

BONUS BACK VIEW

"Hike!" (my garmies to my chest)

Even photoshop is powerless in recreating that pallor:

please help the elderly

Tonight my daughter Maddie (14) was telling me that she thought my last post was funny.  Then she said with sincere concern and a touch of pity, "Mom, do you know how to make a sad face on the computer?"  She thinks that I am 80.  Now where's that darn sadface button.........aw, crap.  Just forget it.  (sadface) (sadface)

hmm.....I can't figure out why.....

I was laying on the couch reading Jackie Warner's book, "This is Why You're Fat," when Paul passed by me and asked, "When you open that book, is there a picture of you eating licorice and cookies?" (Which is what I was doing at the time.)

Ouch. But he may have a point. (sadface)

ombré! ¡olé!

I'm so excited about the new "Ombré" hair trend, which is basically just letting your dark roots grow out a ton. Consider me on board! I've been rocking this trend for YEARS. Stop copying me, Drew Barrymore.

Oliver Update

Oliver has discovered a love for hula hooping. He thinks he does better with no clothes on, so right before this video was taken, he stripped down to his underwear. He kept saying, "Mom, watch this! It's going to be INCREDIBLE." We were trying to get him to say INCREDIBLE in the video, but it didn't pan out.




Another thing he's into lately is eating. He asks me all day long what he can eat - even 5 minutes after a meal. It drives me nuts. So I finally told him, "You can eat whatever you want, at any time, as long as it's not a treat." He was very excited by this news. After a couple days of this new freedom, he said to me, "I'm really glad I can eat whatever I want. It's like I'm famous!"

Oliver: It would be fun to be on a cloud.
Me: Yeah, it would be really fluffy.
Oliver: (Thinking for a minute...) Actually it would be really through-y. You would fall right through it.

Oliver: Wait. Let me make sure my heart's running. (Puts his hand on his chest.) Yeah, it's still running.

He can read like nobody's business. He reads my emails over my shoulder. (Yikes.) He read his entire talk in church by himself. At his birthday party in May (he just turned 5), we had a little treasure hunt. At one point I realized there wasn't an adult with them to read the clue, but Oliver just matter-of-factly took it and read it for everyone. Ok, I'm bragging, but I can't help it, he's smart.

Oliver: Mom, we need to get a ring for you if we're going to get married. Wait.....you already married dad, didn't you. Why DID you marry him, anyway? You just liked him a lot??"
Me: Something like that.

Maddie to me: Maybe you should have another baby.
Me: Really? You think I should?
Oliver: (with a warning tone) You'll have to marry dad again....

He took T-ball this spring, and loved it. As a baseman he felt it was his job was to intimidate and bug the other team. He would stand right on the base and not give the runners room to stand. At one point, we thought he was kissing them on the cheek, but he told me he was blowing in their ears. To bug them. Here he is flipping a runner on the head, and then sizing up his next victim. Yes, we are the kind of parents that laugh instead of telling him to stop. Shame on us. (He's in the hat.)




The other day Paul was giving the kids an angry lecture. He ended it with a serious threat of punishment, and this was immediately followed by the loudest and longest belch ever produced by Oliver. Everyone started laughing uncontrollably, and Paul's attempts at authority were once again ignored.

Oliver: Mom, you're a BMF.
Me: ?
Oliver: Best Mom Forever!

I love this boy.

Recent Failures:

*The new Shabu Shabu restaurant in Orem. It looks like it's gonna be good, but then you find out that you're expected to cook your own food. The gay Asian waiter takes you painstakingly through the steps, warns you not to overcook your chicken, and then tells you to "Have fun!" Wow, I never get to make food for anyone! What a blast! Then you're supposed to dip your overcooked, bland, rubbery chicken (yes - I cooked it longer than the suggested 2 minutes - uh, salmonella?) and veggies into two dipping sauces - soy sauce or a yuck peanut sauce. Mmm....tastes like my cooking, except way worse. I can pay $15 for this? Yay. Then once you've choked down your tasteless meal and feel full, they tell you to put these big, fat, blah noodles in the pot you just cooked your chicken in, to make an enormous bowl of flavorless noodle soup. What? I didn't think this dinner could get more unappealing, but the noodle soup dessert course sent me skyrocketing into super confused territory. Yeah, it's a traditional Japanese dinner, but it's also really stupid. And gross. EPIC FAIL.

*The new Pizza 712 restaurant in Orem. I heard from a lady in our ward that it was really good. She's Irish, so maybe that has something to do with it? I felt like I had lost an integral part of my brain whilst reading the menu. I could not figure it out. I stared at it for like 5 minutes with no significant progress. It was trying to be all cool and hip, but it was just insanely confusing. It was just a brown piece of paper, with everything typed in lowercase letters, with no appropriate spacing to designate what the crap they were offering. Like this:

greens.....
clifford farms arugula, english peas, pickled carrot, hand pulled mozzarella, basil vinaigrette
savoy spinach, house smoked bacon, crouton, pickled shallot, whole grain mustard viaigrette, goat cheese

pizza.....
tomato sauce, hand pulled mozzarella, basil
roasted corn, roberts mushrooms, leek, house smoked provolone
potato, red onion, parmesan, ricotta
speck, sopressata, garlic, tomato sauce, mozzarella
tomato sauce, scallion oregano, serrano chile, hand pulled mozzarella, farm egg
house made sausage, fennel, roasted pepper, tomato sauce, mozzarella

CHOICES! What the crap are you talking about. I can have a farm egg on my pizza? Speck?? OH. It was insanely overpriced, and for all the fancy schmancyness, it wasn't very good. Fail.

*My nose hair trim. I got some new trimmers and went nuts, shaving my nostrils bald. Turns out my nose hairs have a purpose besides grossing me out. I've been sneezing non-stop ever since, and my nostrils are all itchy and painful. Fail.

*The wasp trap I bought. It was a newfangled disposable one. I read the instructions, set it up, and waited for the wasps to flock to their death. A couple days later I decided to notice it again, and was like, "Eeeew, there are tons of flies in it, gross." The next day I noticed a very bad stench hanging around our patio area. It smelled like rotting garbage. That's when I looked.....I mean REALLY looked at the wasp trap. It looked like this:


FLY TRAP. In big letters. With the pooiest-garbage-scented attractant around. Thanks eyes, for forgoing the reading part of that purchase. Maybe I really am missing a part of my brain.

leading by example

Recently seen on Facebook (I don't know her - she's a friend of a friend):

Chica Pantoja Wondering why people on FACEBOOK who are adults......still continually mispell words every time they go on here. Get off the computer and go pick up a dictionary dummies!

Out of her 9 comments and 5 likes, no one told her that she misspelled "misspell." Oh Chica. You silly lady.

oliver knows something/doesn't know something

not for sensitive viewers

I've been meaning to post this for ages, but it's always on a Sunday when I think of it, and I don't want to disrupt anyone's pure Sabbath thoughts. This is the back cover of my newly acquired album. You might think it's the same pic as the front, but it's actually so much grosser. (e.g. bellybutton: visible. ugh.) Please compare and enjoy. I think it's safe to assume he's on some type of national registry.



Speaking of sex offenders, Isabel (not a sex offender) just finished the RAD kids program, which teaches kids how to kick Herbie Manns in the crotch. This is a video of her final day. They had several stations to complete - tell a trusted grownup where you're going, ask for the family password, beat up an attacking dummy, and.....oh, Isabel...don't forget to run over to the huge scary guy in the red padded suit and give him what for!



I'm glad they learn this stuff and I think it's important, but seeing tiny Isabel against that huge guy......it's not hard to see who would win in real life. A sobering thought.

Speaking of disturbing things, there's a weight training video I've had for years, that I recently started doing again, called "In Shape with Rachel McLish." It's a really good video, as far as the exercises go, but sometimes she can be.......off-putting. Here's a small, horrific sampling (shoo any children from the room now):




Was the opening and closing of the mouth really necessary? How exactly does that enhance my stretch? (Be quiet Paul). And I don't need a throaty "YES" said at any point during my workouts. Please.

Speaking of Scrabble on Facebook, (I wasn't, but I am now) I have been playing my brother Zak and am about to crush him for the 3rd time. (Ok, he beat me once. Badly.) But due to his school schedule (I think that's his excuse) it takes him DAYS to take his turn. And it drives me mad. So if anyone would like to play me at Scrabble, I am ready and willing. To crush you.

And speaking of you being jealous of me, I bet your husband didn't buy you some chocolate praying hands for Easter. Mine did.

Hear my prayer. Eat my hands.

re: oh naked flute playing

I wrote Paul an email about my trip to the library (libe) today and he wants me to post it. So here it is.

Paul.

Let me tell you about my trip to the libe today. The reason I called you was to see if you knew where the libe card was. I was late for Story Time and didn't have time to wait for you to talk to someone else. Plus, I found a libe card right then in my closet.

Anyway, so Oliver and I go there and rush to the storytelling area, where we went last week at this very same time*. (*Actually, Story Time is on Thursdays. I was under the impression for most of today that it was Thursday.) After a minute, it became obvious that it was "Lap Time" which is for babies. They were doing little songs and actions in baby voices. Oh, and all the kids there were babies? So I'm like, what crap? Then I see a group of preschoolish age children over by the stained glass window, and a lady is showing them all the pictures and having them guess what stories they're from. Ok, so this must be Story Time. After a couple minutes, the libe lady says, "Let's go over to this other area and I'll read you some stories." So I walk right behind her and sit Oliver down in front of her. (Shotgun!) There were no seats for adults, so I stood in the back with the other parents. First she gave a presentation on taking care of libe books. And she promised them at the end they would get these cool bookmarks "from their teacher." Huh? Then I noticed that all of the other kids had the same neon green, tie-dyed t-shirts on, and placard necklace things around their neck. They were a preschool class on a library field trip. I wondered how cool the parents thought I was for including my child in their class. I also noticed that in my hurry to leave, I hadn't folded Oliver's collar down, so it was all up like a preppy douchebag. Another thumbs up for me. He was enjoying the stories so much, I didn't want to interrupt everything and take him out, so I just waited until the end. The teacher started counting kids to pass out bookmarks, so I went and grabbed Oliver. They probably wouldn't have minded giving him one, but I wanted to avoid the "And you are....?" incident. Oliver was like, "My teacher was going to give me a bookmark!" I tried to explain that we weren't in that class, and he said, "But it had Dinosaur Train on it!" He didn't get upset, though. Just cute Oliver. So I need to buy him a cool bookmark soon.

Next I went to the adult section and found all these awesome books. We got Oliver some books, and then some old records for sale caught my eye. I think you'll be pleased with the two I picked out.

I went to the desk to check out, and didn't know my pin number. The old crotchety lady's like, "Well I need to see your driver's license." "I don't have it with me,' I say, like a thumbs up girl. "Is it in your car?" "No." "Did you drive here?" "Yes." "You drove over here? And you don't have your driver's license??" YES THAT IS CORRECT BIOTCH. So she says she'll use my Visa as verification, and ask me some questions. She enters the libe card in the system and says, with horror, "This card was reported LOST over a YEAR ago. I'm sorry I can't possibly give you the pin number unless I have photo ID." Oh my hell, whatevs. Can I just buy these albums, then? With the visa you think I've stolen?

Paul. I'm buying THIS album. Push Push, by Herbie Mann. M'am, can you ring this up for me please? I gots to gets this home and enjoy this pic! She handled it like it was toxic. Then I made her put the other books on hold so I could come back later and check them out.

How many thumbs up can I receive in one morning? So many, is the answer.

mano-a-mano

A couple weeks ago, Isabel told me that she always does good in her class spelling bees. I was quite excited about this fact, as I am a lover of spelling words correctly. Paul and I are hardcore "spellists." So last week she brought home a big list of spelling bee words to study for the REAL class spelling bee. Alex has a different teacher, and he hadn't really mentioned anything about the spelling bees until we were studying, when he confessed, "I'm pretty good." He was good. It makes me happy.

So last Friday they had their real class spelling bees, and they both won! Now the winners from each class will compete in the School Spelling Bee on Thursday. Brother and sister.....spelling words......head to head. So proud. Who to root for?

My Valentime

I'm not keen on public displays of affection, even on blogs, yet I can make fun of Paul all day long on here. I tell myself that he likes it. I know, something's wrong with me. So in the interest of fairness, I will now expound on the many reasons I love my Paul. Plus, he's been hounding me to post this.

I tend to be an anxiety-filled, antisocial depressive, so life for me is sometimes rough. It's lucky, then, that Paul is my complete opposite. He is funny and happy 99% of the time - making up his songs, doing his dances, making me laugh, showering me with love and compliments and affection, with not a care in the world. On my really bad days he exhaustively searches for ways to make me happy. First he always says, "Go buy yourself some clothes and spend as much money as you want." He's lucky that a) I hate clothes shopping, and b) I do the bills, which is probably why I'm depressed in the first place. So I never do that. His next suggestions are that we go to a) Borders - to buy a magazine, b) a movie, c) dinner, or d) all of the above. He rubs my feet and tolerates my grumpiness. If I don't feel up to something, like using the phone (frequent), taking things to people, like dinner or gifts (pretty frequent), or going to social events (is there a more frequent term than always?), he will do it for me. He takes bullets for me all the time. He's my hero.

You know how sometimes at extended family gatherings, you see a cousin's spouse and go - hey, there's that guy I see once a year....what's his name? No one does that with Paul. Both sides of my family know Paul well, and love him. He's the only adult that plays in the kiddie pool on the 4th of July, and the kids know him as "the guy we love to shoot in the face."

Both of my grandmas love him, too. He addresses my Grandma Rasmussen with "Hey Baby," and chats her up like an interested suitor and makes her feel 19 again. She totally eats it up. I'm fairly certain that if there were only one more spot in my extended family's bomb shelter, they would choose Paul over me in a heartbeat. He's just way more fun. Can't say that I blame them, but really - how dare you, Family?! You're my own flesh and blood!

Paul writes me letters that must be saved. They are always funny, and always love-filled and complimentary. I can't find the best ones right now, because I have the organizational skills of a sea lion, and the rest are too personal, so I will just post a very small sampling.

From when we were dating:

A couple years ago for Valentine's Day, he ordered flowers for me over the phone
and made the lady write this Salvador Dali quote:

My birthday card this year.

This year for Valentine's Day he bought me a 4-disc DVD set of The Love Boat. We used to watch it every night when we were dating. Not only does it have spectacularly bad writing, acting, and story lines, the ridiculous 70's guest stars are plentiful. It is one of our favorite things to mock. It was the best Valentine's gift ever! We've only watched a couple of shows so far, but already there has been a guest appearance by Jessica Walters (Lucille from Arrested Development!), I've been reminded how mind-boggling it is that they portray Paul Williams as a ladies man, and Gopher HAS, I repeat, HAS gotten it on with Marcia Wallace. Super disgusting, and hilariously awesome.














(Paul Williams / Marcia Wallace)


To sum up: Paul is my best friend in the whole world and I don't know how I would live without him. Love you Paulbrowning!

kismet

Oh life. Tonight Paul wanted to go to Asuka (a Japanese restaurant in Provo) for his early birthday dinner. And I had already bought an Asuka gift certificate for one of his presents! Sweet.

Before we go to restaurants, I like to look at the online menu, so I won't panic-order and regret my choice. In my search for Asuka's menu, I saw some very hateful comments about how the restaurant's quality has declined recently. When we got there, there was not one other person in the restaurant. We haven't been there for awhile, but it's never been that dead. It was a little eerie. The Hibachi chef was very low-key, and several of the expected parts of his act were missing - like the shrimp toss in the mouth at the end (Paul's favorite part) and the egg catch in his hat. He wasn't even wearing a hat. They only gave us 2 sauces instead of four, and yet they had raised their prices from overpriced to WTH?! The food was still pretty good, though. While we were eating we noticed an older guy that looked like the owner, sitting in the empty room of tables across from us, sometimes pacing, but mostly sitting all alone, hanging his head in his hands and looking suicidal.

When the check came, we were ready to escape the depression. I took one last swig of my water, and felt something on my tongue. I pulled it out - a short, thick, black hair that curled around the tip of my finger. I almost lost my whole dinner. The whole way home I could not get the feeling of that on my tongue and the image of it on my finger, out of my head. I wanted to go home and Lysol my entire mouth.

A couple hours later, I was on the computer, entering a contest on Denny's website, and you'll never believe what my word verification was:



Indeed it was.