Monday, January 18, 2010

the kind of guy you marry

i was never the kind of kid to sit around dreaming of my future wedding day, the kind of guy i would end up with (other than balthazar getty - "young guns 2" say what!), or any of the other standard, young heterosexual girl fantasies (the kind that are mercilessly peddled by avaricious hollywood purveyors of heternormative heroin like "bride wars"). not me. i was too busy reading e. nesbit stories of well-behaved yet still adventuring children, making toilet paper tube crafts, and running around the yards in my little fiefdom lugging the neighbours' siamese cats hither and yon.

i was super-duper ANTI-wedding and marriage for like, forever (still am.) i didn't have a prince charming in mind or a checklist of qualities i wanted in my future life partner; no, the ever-prosaic and practical kid-version of me was all like, "you're together for as long as you're together" or "love is what's made over time" and all the rest.

yesterday, after brunch, the dotytron and i retreated to our separate lairs and worked in individual silence for 3-4 hours; me cranking out quilting blocks and he in the pursuit of cover letter eloquence and compositional glory. at around 5 in the afternoon, in the dimming light of day, i heard the door of the craft room open behind me. i turned to behold the dotytron, who without words of greeting or acknowledgement simply said, "i'm pretty sure i've got some raccoon sex happening outside if you want to come see."

i didn't know it then as a kid, but as we stood at the window to gawk like nosy tenement dwellers at the slow-moving, methodical display of woodland animal copulation, joined together by our silent, depraved titillation and profoundly immature thrill at the sight before us, as i stood there with him by my side, i realized that THIS is the kind of man you (and by "you" i mean, "i") marry. it couldn't have been any other way, really. as a child i floundered in blessed ignorance of the ringing truth: that at the end of the day, you really want to marry the kind of guy who'll alert you to raccoons f**king outside your window.

last night we ended up using our harvey's coupons for dinner. i'm all over the fast-food chain coupons that come in the mail, now. even if they do result in me sitting at the dining room table, wasting precious half hours with the flyers spread before me, contemplating the vagaries of their deals and combos and value-added whosits with talmudic intensity. there really is no way of getting the better of them. of not having your usual order attenuated by the unyielding force of their rules and bylaws. foolish, chinese me that i am, always on the hunt for a slightly better bargain or deal, i still try to pit the full might of my enculturated calculatory instincts against the outputs of countless well-compensated actuarial scientists employed by mcdonald's, taco bell, etc. in the end, i always hve to concede defeat. so, we paid a bit extra to upgrade our fries to poutine and settled for the standard original burger instead of the double.

we watched the golden globes even though the dotytron was hating every minute of it. lol! it was worth it to watch ricky gervais almost lose his s**t when he made the joke about no one loving a good drink more than mel gibson. lol!!! it was considerably less charming when mel gibson tried to act like he was in on the joke by pretending to be a stumbling, slack-faced drunk - mostly because he turned into an anti-semitic lout last time he got trashed. i also enjoyed hearing arnold schwarzenegger pronouncing "avatar" "ahvuhdarr"

look at helen mirren. just look at her. i've loved her since i saw her in "oh lucky man" for OAC writer's craft lo, 13+ years ago...



and look at this ADORABLE photo of diane kruger and joshua jackson:

the gofugyourself girls are always going on and on about how awesome they are as a couple and how adorable joshua jackson is and i agree 100%.

other random thoughts on the golden globes: christina hendricks has a mighty pair of golden globes of her own (hyuk, hyuk). RDJ stole the show with the best speech of the night. drew barrymore's breathiness seemed like a total affectation to me. i loved chloe sevigny, marion cotillard, and zoe saldana's dresses. i thought anna kendrick's dress totally washed her out. and carey mulligan is totally over-rated in my opinion and she always has a strangely mincing, tight-lipped smile that i find off-putting (also her dress was doing nothing for her.) and "nine" looks like one of the worst movies i'm ever not-going-to-see in my life.


tonight for dinner i made penne carbonara with guanciale from firenze. i also made this new salad consisting of thinly shaved fennel tossed with olive oil and salt, a layer of mixed baby greens tossed with balsamic and salt, a layer of proscuitto, and pomegranate seeds.

it still boggles my mind that there used to be a time when i didn't like fennel. it seems like a dream. i love it now.

organizing photos and putting them into albums has given me a raging headache. peace out.

fin.

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