In honor of Sesame Street’s 40th birthday, I bring you “puppet magic.”

Where Gob and Franklin were finally free to love like they wanted.

See also: Happy Homophobe Day!

Yuri: I was at a meeting with a client on Friday. She told us that she had taken her 9 year old daughter to an Eagles game and that they were seated in front of some rowdy youths. Half way through the third quarter the girl says, “Mom, someone spilled beer on me. And it’s warm.”

Me: Um… pee?

Yuri: Yup.

Me: (gasps audibly.)

That’s a horrible story.

Though,
one time my dad took me to see the Celtics and some dude barfed on him. He was so drunk he didn’t even know he was barfing.

Yuri: God. That’s horrible.

Me: Just fell over in his chair, and it started pouring out.

Yuri: Yech.

Me: They had to remove him and put the sawdust down on the concrete floor and then we were able to sit down again.

It was awesome.

This past week, I’ve downloaded six new albums. There’s a good chance that the number will go up to nine by the end of the weekend.

What surprises me about this is not my immoderate music consumption but the fact that, as a self-proclaimed sucker for packaging, I’ve fallen so completely for the mp3 format. Downloads are so anonymous. There is no cover art. There are no liner notes. There are no carefully chosen fonts. I have always liked these things and the tone they set when you sit down and listen to an album for the first time.

But when I started buying a lot of new music again this summer, the Lure of the Download began working its magic upon me. They provide you with instant gratification. They’re cheaper than CDs, and they’re better for the environment. And, in a way, it’s kind of nice not being primed to approach an album a certain way because of the way it looks. (That whole book and cover thing, I guess.)

And did I mention the instant gratification part?

Yeah. There’s that.

Cranky disclaimer: I am still not a fan of downloading “a” song off an album. I did it a couple times when I was making my summer mix, and it made me feel dirty. Albums–real ones made by real artists–are still meant to be listened to as such. And some of the best songs are the ones that lack the immediate appeal of a single. </rant>

If I had to capture our trip to Italy in one picture, it would be ... ah, yeah.

One of the best things about going and getting yourself all married is the customary vacation that follows. For ours, we took a long-postponed trip to Italy. We spent most of our time in Florence, with a couple days in Rome and a day trip to Siena thrown in.

Ty had already spent a good amount of time in all three cities, but it was my first time in Italy, so we did a lot of the stuff you do during your maiden visit to a foreign land. We also drank a lot and ate a lot and got to see some of our friends living in Europe.

I will not bore y’all with a day-by-day itinerary like I did my poor mother, but here are some of my observations from the trip:

• Rome was way cooler than I thought it would be. That probably sounds bad, but whatever. I was expecting something more like the “oh, this is New York City but foreign” let-down I felt when I went to Paris last summer, but Rome was stubbornly tied to its historical and cultural roots. There you are, walking through this vibrant contemporary city, when you come upon ruins from an ancient temple sticking up in the middle of a piazza like an antiquated cowlick. Turns out I like antiquated cowlicks.
• Gelato in the U.S. is not gelato.
• Pizza in the U.S. is not pizza.
• Out of all the big Renaissance masters with ninja turtles named after them, Michelangelo is still the only one I’m hot on.
• I’m also pretty hot for old Italian cathedrals, and no pictures could ever, ever do them justice. Out of the ones we visited, the Duomo di Siena was by far my favorite. The photos are neat enough, but they fail to capture the “holy fuck” feeling that comes over you when you walk in there. The black and white marble columns, the mosaic floors, the illuminated manuscript room with the absolutely awe-inspiring, Moorish-influenced ceiling of golds and reds, blacks and the deepest blues… this cathedral isn’t playing around. And I’m not even religious.
• The Chianti Classico region would be a very nice place to retire. Or relocate to tomorrow. Either/or.

Photos, for those of you who can stand more of those.

I'm glad I hitched my apple wagon to your star

A couple weeks ago, Ty and I got married.

(Cheers! Hand-clapping!)

I know I’m biased, but I thought that it was a pretty kick-ass affair. I was amazed by how lovely a day it was, amazed by how many people ran with our insane costumed theme, amazed by the outpouring of warm and fuzziness, amazed by how much fun the whole thing was.

I was also amazed by the mustaches and the number of hook arms.

Thanks to all of you who came out and celebrated with us. (Bonus points if you celebrated whilst wearing a ridiculous hat.) And thanks to all the folks who sent along their snapshots from the day. Our official photos are on the way courtesy of our wonderful friend Aimee, but in the meantime, I’ve set up a stream of my favorite shots from the day for you guys to check out if’n you’re into that sorta thing.

Photos! Woohoo!

Ciao, bitches!

As most of you know, Ty and I are doing the ol’ hitcheroo on Saturday, followed by what ought to be a hot-damn, kick-ass vacation in Roma e Firenze.  So I’ll not be blogging for a bit.

Not that I’ve been blogging much lately, anyway. But now I’ll have an excuse.

So hugs to you all … and look forward to posts about foreign escapades in a couple weeks.

New from the neighborhood listserve:

Subject: [PEN] boys’ briefs up for grabs, size 2-3T

About a dozen and a half pairs. Lots of pirates, some dinos and
characters; some fading, no stains. First claimant gets the lot; if
unclaimed, they’ll go to TPPC bazaar.

On our way home from my fabulous birthday dinner, Ty and I found ourselves behind a truck driver with a very important message.

Subtext: I eat puppies.

Note that his anti-animals message is even larger than his CB radio call number. Also note that it includes italics.

You know. For emphasis.