mnvnjnsn's Diary

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Was this really worth the wait? Probably not.

I'm torn between writing about macro events (like say, oh, Armageddon) and mini events (Hey, I saw a great movie this weekend!). So hard to decide: global horror or personal minutae? How to decide, how to decide. Well, writing about worldwide events would require thoughtfulness and clarity, whereas I don't even need to be coherent when writing about my personal issues.

And we have a winner: let the whining begin.

First of all, it's hot in here, and I only mention this because apparently it's been terrible hot all over the country today, and Portland itself was among the coolest of cities nationwide. I am melting here, along with two of my three cats, and even though we are all smart enough to realise that it is at least 15 degrees cooler downstairs, we remain here. See? That's how much of a whiner I am. I shall continue, although surprisingly, not with much more whining.

Besides seeing Strangers With Candy, which you will find hiLARious if you liked the TV show or horribly tedious if you didn't, Trevor Dunnigan and I stopped off at Safeway for our weekly kitchen replenishment. While he toted the bags from the car to the kitchen, I began unloading the food into the nooks and crannies. And then I found a bag with two odd things. Trevor Dunnigan and I had the following conversation:

Me: Um, you know, we already have corn holders.
TD: What?
Me: Why did you buy these? We already have some. And whats with these frenchie cookies?
TD: Again, what?
Me: These butter cookies. Why'd you pick these?
TD: I didn't pick those.
Me: You didn't?
TD: Where'd you get them?
Me: They were in the bag.

We still don't know where those corn holders or those cookies came from. They weren't on our receipt, and there had been no customers before or after us. But those cookies were good, and we are so ready for six other people to come to our house to eat corn. Mmmmmmmmmmm, unexplained corn holders...

In other news, I have decided that we, meaning Trevor Dunnigan and I, should start watching TV shows on a big screen with a couple puppets, a la MST3K, because I cannot watch a TV show without snarking the shit out of it.

For example, last night we were watching Cold Case, and the plot was focused on a hard core Nirvana fan high schooler in 1994 who, after Kurt Cobain's suicide, seems to have thrown himself off the the roof of the school building. Of course, it turns out that it wasn't suicide and the detectives start the round-robin interviewing of all the suspects that always takes up a good 35 minutes of any Cold Case show. As the story starts to reach its denuement, what really happened is shown in slow motion, with time-appropriate music playing.

But here's the thing. If this kid knew his story was being told, I'm pretty sure he would NOT want the Counting Crows to be playing in the background.

I swear, some of these shows need to get some better researchers.

9:53 p.m. - 2006-07-17


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