Fancypants

It's a messed up world and I just . . .need to rule it

I'll admit I'm a Whedon/Harris/Fillion fangirl, but what of it? I also have excellent taste and this web musical (the villain is sort of the hero and the hero is sort of the villain and it's all set to music) is LEGEN . . .wait for it . . .DARY.

http://www.drhorrible.com/

Also digging the new The Hold Steady album that released yesterday (cross file this one under : Booze, and Youth, Misspent). And I finally jumped on the Vampire Weekend bandwagon and have been chastised by my husband for warbling "who gives a fuck about an Oxford Comma?" to Jonas before dinner last night. I feel that his (husband's) prudishness is rather unbecoming; he feels the same about my language around the baby. To this I say, "ah, marriage," and reflect for a moment on how our differences enrich our lives or something.

Also, I am neglecting pretty much everyone EXCEPT the baby (I will always make time to teach him curse words) to read all of the books in His Majesty's Dragon series. When my punk rock neighbor told me about this alternate reality series where the Napoleonic Wars were fought with dragons I was all, that's lame, even for me. Until I read one and decided that when Fat Diabetic Cat dies then I'm going to get a dragon of my own. Think Master and Commander. WITH DRAGONS.

Finally, the baby went swimming last week and apparently has no fear. He loved the water and I got some sun for the first time in two years, so it was a winning situation for both of us.

zomg GEEK

Neil Patrick Harris + Joss Whedon + Nathan Fillion = WHEEE. I think I just blacked out. From joy.

Teaser from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog on Vimeo.

"You taught me a lesson about not teaching lessons?"

All the carefully ordered lists in the world are for shit if:

a. You don't bother setting your alarm for 5:15 am since your husband set his phone alarm anyway (and that effing thing  wakes you up early every damn morning so it's about damned time that it FOR ONCE does you a favor) but then the phone freezes and the alarm never rings. HAHA. So then you wake up at 6:20 when you had planned to be at the airport at 6:30. And you have a 6 month old to get up and out of the house. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

b. You manage to get to the check in counter by 7:40 (not bad considering the parking/shuttle/didimentionthebaby? thing) and you're heaving a sigh of relief since the security line looks manageable and your flight doesn't leave until 8:30, only to find out that your itinerary, the one you printed out and highlighted and stuff, is wrong. The airline moved the flight to 8am.

c. If you have to be rebooked on a different flight. One that stops at JFK for three hours. This is a bit of a change from the easy peasy 2 hour direct flight you booked. By the way, did you know that I have a baby?

I was cranky. Jonas was a trooper until 9pm last night. We made the rookie parent mistake of going to a friend's house for dinner and the poor kid understably had a total meltdown at two hours past his normal bedtime, after a day of traveling and limited naps.

I don't think I need to bring a one-armed man into this, but the lesson here is: just check your flight times the night before you leave, please.

I shoulda been GONNNNNE

I found this via Popcandy. I'll admit I haven't done much drinking in bars lately, but believe me, my friends, when I tell you that I have spent many, many hours throwing 'em back in a drinking establishment. Jukeboxes were involved. And this guy nailed it with this list, with the exception of # 9, which is just blasphemy.

14 Songs You Should Never Play in a Bar

Unlisted

Randomly

• Of the past 15 items of clothing I have bought (from dresses to bathing suits to shoes) 10 of these items have been some shade of blue.
• Jonas is rolling. He rolls on his playmat, he rolls in the crib, he almost rolls off the changing table. He is in love with the roll.
• My sister let me borrow this baby carrier and it is awesome. Jonas sleeps in it, and it doesn't threaten to snap my delicate back like a twig.
• We're going to North Carolina on Friday! We're gate checking the carseat and stroller. If anyone thinks I should ditch the carseat and rent one from the car rental place instead, speak now or forever hold your peace.
• The finale of Battlestar Galactica last Friday made me cry. Like a baby. 
• I thought I would be ready to quit breastfeeding when J turned 6 months (Thursday) but the very idea of it fills me with dread. Then again, so does the idea of pumping for 6 more months.
• The baptism and the party last week went just swimmingly. It was 90 degrees, but we did manage to get the air conditioners installed in time. Jonas was charming, as usual.
• 

(picture courtesy of Jen)

 

No lists were harmed during the writing of this post

[[Oh, hey, new Typepad authoring interface! It's been so long since I've logged on here that I must have missed your arrival.]]

I like to plan for events. Trying to predict every eventuality so that I am armed with the appropriate response/gear is a hobby of mine. Lists are involved, as is Internet research. You might be surprised to learn that this compulsion does not mean that I am very organized. In fact, despite my adoption of the Boy Scout motto, I'm often woefully unprepared. I try to imagine what might go wrong or what I might need, but I always seem to forget something. I guess I just don't have much of an imagination. Or maybe my focus is just off.

Still, I persevere, creating list after list and toting them around with me, lovingly folded and clipped to other important documents. Right now my planner is nice and fat with lists and notes about my upcoming trip to North Carolina, and Jonas's baptism and party. The former is in two weeks, the latter this weekend.

We all have churchy clothes to wear this weekend, the food has been ordered and invitations sent, and I have a list of tasks and shopping to do tomorrow. Potential wrinkles? Well, it's going to be 90 degrees this weekend and our air conditioners are not yet installed. Also, our formerly diabetic cat went into remission last week (this was only discovered after his second daily shot of insulin sent him into a hypotonic episode and I had to force feed him corn syrup so he wouldn't die on the kitchen floor). The past week has been gloriously free of both syringes and cat pee. Yay, right?

Wrong. Two things. First, we decided that he was looking a little mangy (corn syrup dribbled down a cat's chest makes for some impressive fur matting) and had him groomed yesterday. Except they didn't so much groom him as shave him completely. He looks, as I have mentioned before, like a fuzzy turkey. Apparently he was such a mess that a simple wash and comb was out of the question. Will post a picture soon so you can see him for yourself. He's going to scare the children. Second, he's started peeing inappropriately again (why the bath mat, Sebs?) and that means his blood sugar is going up and it also means he has to go into the vet again, and when the hell am I supposed to that?

More importantly, cat urine all over the house plus 90 degree weather times an afternoon party for 30 people equals OH SHIT.

A grotesquely shaved cat who went from diabetic remission to pee-soaked relapse WAS NOT ON THE LIST!

(And I really have no idea how you travel with a gigantic 6 month old baby, so that list is probably full of holes, too.)

Current list looks something like this:

1. Lock turkey cat in a closet
2. Buy air fresheners
3. Strategically set up fans so they are blowing offensive odors AWAY from party goers
4. Ply guests with booze so they'll be too drunk to notice the smell
5. Hope for the best