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Sir Henry prances… bow before him.

First off… if you suffered through this, then you need to watch this. And to think I didn’t think I could like Seth more. Thanks for the link, Sean.

mother, mother
there’s too many of you crying
brother, brother, brother
there’s far too many of you dying
you know we’ve got to find a way
to bring some lovin’ here today - ya

father, father
we don’t need to escalate
you see, war is not the answer
for only love can conquer hate
you know we’ve got to find a way
to bring some lovin’ here today

picket lines and picket signs
don’t punish me with brutality
talk to me, so you can see
oh, what’s going on
what’s going on
ya, what’s going on
ah, what’s going on

in the mean time
right on, baby
right on
right on

father, father, everybody thinks we’re wrong
oh, but who are they to judge us
simply because our hair is long
oh, you know we’ve got to find a way
to bring some understanding here today
oh

picket lines and picket signs
don’t punish me with brutality
talk to me
so you can see
what’s going on
ya, what’s going on
tell me what’s going on
i’ll tell you what’s going on - uh
right on baby
right on baby - M.G.

I went to see Shoot ‘Em Up tonight. Paul Giamatti was cast well and the whole movie watched like a cartoonish first-person shooter. If you can put yourself in the mindset that it’s possible a movie is made for a given effect that perhaps doesn’t fit a mainstream mold, then you can probably enjoy this kitchy 86 minutes of bullets and one liners worth the price of admission alone. I met JD, Ted, Carl, and Ryan there and I felt like a 5th wheel. Maybe it was my imagination, but with seemingly all my friends headed in different directions these days, I find myself alone more than not. Ted and I used to be so close and now he just seems indifferent. It stings a little, but I guess that’s life. Sooooooo, what the hell is new with me, you ask? I flew to Atlanta on Friday afternoon to meet up with Wade and Beth for nothing more than killing some time in the ATL. We spent entirely too much money on taxi fair. Those cabbies are master thieves. Drinks and pub fair at The Rusty Nail let to dinner at a Lebanese restaurant where the owner obviously needed glasses as he was convinced I looked like “Mr. Smith”. This of course prompted my partners in crime introducing me as “the Lebanese Brad Pitt” to everyone we met subsequently. The meal was very tasty though, so being mistaken for Tyler Durden was taken as complimentary. At Beth’s request, we almost closed the Pink Pony. I can’t exactly say it was misery… even when drenched in champagne. We met the appropriately pierced queen of booty poppin’ ATL style, a petite seductress with a fake British accent, and a Canadian gypsy endocrinologist that we gingerly wrote about in a coffeehouse journal the next day before I hopped on a plane back to H-Town less than 24 hours later with little sleep. ”Give me your tears, Gypsy, or I will take them from you.” Actually, getting back to the hotel at five aye emm on Saturday after witnessing amateur rapper/producer negotiations in the waiting line at I-Hop would have been fine if it weren’t for the construction crew drilling in the wall next to our room and indifference of the hotel manager. We went to the Lush outlet store and I learned more than I ever needed to know about fresh, handmade cosmetics. It would have been a much better visit if I’d checked a bag, but it’s hard to get squishy, gooey, organic bath and body yumm past TSA at the airport. Overall, the trip was a nice diversion from the norm for me and, as an added bonus, I got to meet some new people IRL and that’s invariably nice on some level. Beth and I have known each other for years in blogdom, but this is the first time we’ve ever robbed a liquor store together. She had to have some way to buy that truckload of Lush on Saturday morning. I don’t know how she’s going to explain it to her husband, but there was enough organic cosmetics imported into Alabama this weekend to set off some sort of alarm at Homeland Security, I’m sure.

QuikTrip gasoline: “Like fine wine—except it tastes nasty.”

Today was low key. My dear mother was watching the grandkids while I was out of town. We grilled out on the patio and had “movie night” last night after I got home from Georgia. We went for mani/pedi’s and lunch this morning then she was off for home. Other than that, I pretty much enjoyed doing nothing. I feel like this week will be spent recovering from the lost sleep that the back to back trips cost me. One detail I left out of last week’s posts was my consultation visit to the Berkeley Eye Center. I’ve told myself for years I was going to buy some corrective surgery for my 40th birthday. Recently, I can’t really find a reason to wait… especially after losing my glasses a couple of weekends ago and resorting to wearing frames that are years and years old. If I go for a new exam, frames, and contacts, I’m already several hundred dollars into the procedure cost anyway. So why not? Long story short: I go in for precise measurements to be taken on dilated eyes on Wednesday after work. Barring unforseen difficulties, I will return on Thursday to have laser beams shot into my eye and either emerge able to see without glasses -or- completely blind without glasses… regardless, without glasses. I have a high degree of anxiety surrounding the part where they make the corneal flap so the eximer laser can shape the lens. In the old days, they used a microkeratome to mechanically cut a flap with an instrument not unlike a carpenter’s plane. Modern procedure often allows the use of something called Intralase where a femtosecond laser vaporizes tiny areas of corneal tissue at precise depths to create gas bubbles that eventually create a flap similar to the microkeratome… ie. bladeless because it’s all done with light. The technology is freakin’ fascinating to me, but the thought of an “oops” turning me into a fingerless Ray Charles is scary as hell. Say a prayer for me… do a little dance, make a little love… get down tonight.

I’m really hungry. It’s almost eleven and I need to try to get into the holy-shit-tomorrow-is-a-work-day mode, but I am not tired (yet)… just hungry. Grrrrrr!