March 5th, 2004
|01:36 pm - Go see The Altar Boy, and wash my cutting board when you're through.|
So tonight should be fun. april_tehe and I are gonna go to Broom Street Theater to see The Altar Boy, written by Callen Harty and directed by Brian Wild. Seven bucks. Eight o'clock. Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights through April 11th. You oughta go and support local theater -- besides, what's the alternative, Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights? Go see The Altar Boy.
Other than tonight's plans, not a lot new in my life lately. Wednesday night I came home to find Nate and Sean actually cleaning. That's right, you read correctly, they were cleaning. Let's do that one more time, in boldface with underlining for emphasis: Nate and Sean were cleaning. Sean had mopped the floor (not that you can tell now), and they were in the middle of doing the dishes for the first time in just over a month. I was ecstatic. Flowers bloomed. Birds sang. Maidens swooned. Grown men fell to their knees, as tears welled up in their eyes. Gods were created. The heavens opened up and poured forth molten glory, as around the world people of all races, creeds and faiths embraced and sang Strictly Genteel in eight part harmony with accompaniment by the London Symphony Orchestra and Theodore Bikel singing lead vocal, and the Bush Administration got turned into donkeys like those boys in Pinocchio. It was great.
Um, they washed my cutting board.
With my cutting board clean for the first time since early February when Nate had used it to make something brown, I decided to deal with several things in the fridge that have been getting old but are still edible. I now have an abundance of coleslaw, which I cannot possibly finish by myself, so if anybody wants to have a coleslaw party, I'll host it. I also made garlic bread. Yes, coleslaw and garlic bread -- you'd think I was pregnant. This is what happens when you don't coordinate your leftovers (I used to work with a woman who actually planned her family's meals so that the leftovers would go together).
Anyway, it's 1:36 PM. I should probably get back to work. I don't anticipate being ultrabusy this afternoon, but there's only so much screwing around I can do at work.
Current Mood: creative
Current Music: Isao Tomita -- Saturn, The Bringer of Old Age
They...clean? Wow...Satan can eat ice cream now! Woo hoo! I bet he likes triple-berry-crucho-peanut-vanilla-with diced avacado. I probably would if I were evil and never ate ice cream or had huge wings with which to pummel Trul, my faithful cronically narcoleptic spider monkey. Ahh Trul...we have such good times.
Is that Satan's ice cream in our freezer? Dude, I thought that belonged to Josh. Anyway, how's Trul doing? I haven't seen him in like, forever.
Well, the bloating has gone down and I think his confidence is back. He'll be on his stumps in no time at all!
Dammit, I wish I could screw at work...
Trust me Scott, my job's not that good.
I'm the only person who can have sex at Colins work. Otherwise how would I get his co-worker pregnant? (Am I the only person who remembers that post?)
Yeah, me too, but I'm trying to forget.