Ruminating Slav

iGeek

What's new, pussycats? This weekend I drove down to Austin to attend my very-first Buffy Sing-a-Long, and holy crap, how much fun was that? Copious amounts of alcohol were consumed all day long, but I'm pretty sure that sitting among my people belting out, "You're the cutest of the Scoobies with your lips as red as rubies and your firm yet supple ... tight embrace!" would have been just as much fun stone-cold sober. Along similarly nerdular lines, Joss Whedon is selling himself on eBay. I plan on bidding my final paycheck, which, let's face it, might win me a glimpse of the back of Joss' head while nibbling on a cocktail weenie in the broom closet of the restaurant where the winning bidders will be wined and dined. By Joss Whedon.

So I've been watching the new Doctor Who, internets, and man alive, is it ever good. Yes, yes, go ahead and get the pointing and snickering out of your system. Rest assured that my husband sees to it that I am properly shamed every time I put on an episode. Because clearly, Mr. I-Own-Ever-Batman-Comic-Since-1962 can talk.

Are we all properly Depends-clad for tomorrow's iPhone launch? Doubly useful for both fanboy/girl squee-leaks, and for not having to leave your place in line in front of the Apple store (unless you're the chump who hired this guy, in which case, I hope he puts his shirt back on in time for the hand-off). I have called AT&T to switch my service over (promotional goodies for being a long-distance and DSL customer, don'cha know) and they're FedEx'ing me a SIM card along with a free Razr which they could not be talked out of sending. Don't think the irony of being force-fed 2004's hot cell phone for free while eagerly waiting to drop hundreds of dollars on this year's hot cell phone is lost on me. Cause it 'taint.

Good news -- daycare has been going well for Baxter! Which is good news for me since it means I don't have to spend my 12 precious free hours a week being riddled with guilt. Instead I get to do things like slog along on the treadmill and eat canned tuna fish drizzled with lemon. You got it, time for a Lifestyle Change. I have high hopes -- pounds are being dropped and self-respect is being restored. It's actually easier than I thought it would be since I'm not nearly as tempted as I would have been pre-Baxter when we went out to eat a lot more. So there you go, gentle readers, I'm putting it out there and making it official. Now the shame will keep me motivated because I hate talking about something and then not following through.

Finally, as you can see on the left, I've joined the Twitter revolution. What's that you say? The Twitter revolution was in 2006? Oh well. If I manage to get an iPhone, just imagine the inane details of my life that you'll be subjected to: "Sitting at a red light on the way to the bank!" or "Watching my kid wander around the park and pick up cigarette butts!"

I know. I can hardly wait.

Laid back off ... with my mind on my money and my money on my mind

Yesterday I drove up to work because my boss wanted to talk to me about summer projects. Turns out that summer plans involve doing the Dread Annual Report again, immediately followed by being shitcanned. Noice. Three out of the six positions in my departments (that's 50% for all you mathletes out there) are being eliminated, mine being one of the lucky three. So my advice to you, internets, is, if you want it to rain, get your car washed. And if you want to get laid off, enroll your kid in daycare so you can get more work done.

Speaking of daycare, today was introductions day over at the JCC. Songs were sung in Hebrew, and camp t-shirts were passed out. Also, tears fell copiously from the little red-rimmed eyes belonging to my son, who spent the whole hour piteously tugging on my shirt and begging, "Up! Up!" I'm not sure why he was so freaked out since he didn't know WTF was going on -- maybe because BK has taken him to the JCC a few times to work out and left him in the babysitting room there? In any case, next week is going to be quite traumatic for the little dude if today was any indication. Update: Baxter woke up from his nap with an over-103° fever, so I think I have my answer.

Yesterday I made Pecan Crusted Chicken Tenders and Salad with Tangy Maple Dressing for dinner. My first batch of tenders turned out just fine, and then all culinary hell broke loose. The oil got too hot, chicken started burning, the smoke started smoking, and the fire alarm that's connected to the security system started whoop-whoop-whooping. Whoopy! All the doors and window were open, the fans were going, and the alarm was blaring in exactly 2½ minute intervals. We finally had to call the security company and have them reset the system cause momma didn't need no 150-second reminders about what a failure she was in the kitchen.

Mongeese, it is time for me to make a public apology to Neil Patrick Harris. Some time ago I viciously maligned his television show. How wrong I was! Not only am I now a big fan of How I Met Your Mother, but I think I may have a teeny-weeny crush on Barney Stinson. Seriously, WTF? What is it with me and the fictional assholes?

buster, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

In other news, I got my news lens! And I'm in the process of switching over from iPhoto to Aperture and the steep software learning curve is hurting my soft, soft sedentary brains. And I haven't even started shooting in RAW yet, sheesh. Hey, on the bright side, I'll have something to keep me busy while I'm officially unemployed and Baxter is in daycare. What's that? You thought that come the end of July when I'm out of work I'd quit with the daycare? Hahahahahaha.

You'd be wrong.

Also, my kid hates fingerpainting with the fire of one thousand suns:

oh my god what have you done?!?!, originally uploaded by *Karo*.

I dare you to look at Baxter's expression in this photo and not cackle out loud. Dare you.

Wherein I refuse to address the issue at hand

I know, right? Let's not speak of it.

Hey, guess what? Tomorrow the Slav Family heads to New York City. BK has been out of town an outrageous amount the past month (I opted not to accompany him to Milan with Baxter, because, come on. Who are we kidding? Bad idea.) so Bax and I are tagging along. Did you know a certain Buffy alum is currently filming a movie on the Lower East side? No? Well, I DO.

I bought two pairs of new shoes!



Remember when I was all geeking out over that software update I'd be getting on my Directv TiVo? Well, I got it, and it hasn't been pretty. The past three weeks have been full of phone calls to the Directv people, multiple lost recordings, audio dropouts, reformatting of hard drives, and 50% more gray in my hair. The problem, she is fixed? No.

My kid turned a year old!



I'll spare you the cake-smooshing shots, but if you're the sort who enjoys looking at photos of small children coated with chocolate icing, knock yourself out.

You've been thinking about my Macbook Pro, haven't you? Admit it. The latest there is a sudden refusal to go to sleep upon closing, which is apparently a known issue following the 10.4.8 upgrade. I've reset the PRAM on mine and it seems to have solved the problem. FOR NOW.

Hey, fellow Veronica Mars afficionados! How about that last episode? LoVe? Regina Spektor? WEEVIL? Good times. (I cannot write more as El Paso has screwed poor SueSue up the pooper -- the cable co. there hasn't signed a contract with the CW yet and she cannot watch. The horror. My god, the horror.) And you, the brave, the geeky, the Battlestar Galactica viewers! Did Friday's episode rip you a new one or what? To borrow a phrase from Canadian pre-teen programming, IT WENT THERE.

My godfather visited for Baxter's birthday, all the way from Poland:



cue inevitable Lech Wałęsa comparisons

In November I head down to San Antonio for the way to help my college roommate celebrate her recent wedding (congrats, the artist formerly known as KCG!), then it's off to Mississippi for a BK Family Thanksgiving, complete with a brand-new addition to the family, and finally Christmas in Canada with the Stanimal and his wife.

Let us revisit these topics and others soon.

Wherein I come up with some goofy pregnancy metaphors

Hi! How's things? Guess what? My MacBook Pro power adapter stopped working! For those of you keeping count, that means I'm now on my third power adapter and second battery. Wheee!

In other geektastic news, my 30th birthday is coming up and, really, what better way is there of celebrating the completion of one's third decade on this earth than by upgrading to HDTV? Thanks to the Slavic bargaining gene passed down to me by the Stanimal, I talked DirecTV into giving me their $399 HD DVR for free ninety-nine. NICE. After some internet research we went and mingled with the riff raff down at the local Circuit City and Best Buy (Has anyone ever noticed that Circuit City is like the Burger King of electronics stores? Every time I go in one -- which, granted, isn't that often -- it always seems vaguely sticky and dirty) where we stared at lots of TVs and Baxter crawled around and banged on shelves. We decided to go with the Sony 40" Bravia, and it should get here this week. I am so totally ready for the fall tv season.

Ok, geek-out complete. Whew.

Friday night I got a phone call from one of my best friends who now lives in Australia, to tell me he and his wife are expecting their first baby. I'm totally psyched for them, and yeah, a little jealous. How fabulous are they? All jet-setty and ex-patty. In fifteen years when they come visit their kid will kick Baxter's pansy little Dallas private-school ass using some crazy martial arts he learned on the mean streets of Bangkok or some shit.

Talking to my friend also made me a little nostalgic for last year, when I was pregnant and BK and I would sit around wondering what Embie would look like, what kind of little person he would be. Pregnancy was shiny and new, the future all delicious anticipation. What will it be like, raising a child? Will he have hair? What will labor be like? We were about to start a new chapter of our lives, but hadn't gotten to that page yet. That's not to say I'm not totally digging where we are now, but I guess I get nostalgic thinking about that unique moment in life when you know everything's going to change -- nine months of click-click-clicking up that first roller coaster hill and those seconds of balancing on the top before falling. Even if (if!) BK and I decide to have another kid one day, it won't be all leisurely anticipation and speculation like when I was pregnant with Baxter. Who, just in case you were wondering, is still cute as hell:



Today's Hott Home Repair Tip: If your garbage disposal completely stops working, try pressing the red reset button on the bottom of the unit. Luckily, today's hot tip is brought to you by the lady who answers the plumber's phone, and not the plumber himself.

Now I wish we'd eaten there and had some oysters

Last night BK and I had a Hott Date -- first we ate some sushi in the presence of Dallas' beautiful people (none of whom have anything as pedestrian as a baby, I'm sure) and concluded that the beautiful people like it way too loud in their restaurants. On the way to the movie theatre we realized neither of us was particularly excited to see Clerks II (although Kevin Smith ripping Joel Siegal a new one on his MySpace page is pretty funny) so we ended up at The Oceanaire for drinks and dessert. The dessert was monstrous -- a couple of those bad boys would fix Lebanon's current humanitarian crisis right up. Well, just the food shortage aspect. It was big, but not big enough to provide shelter from Iraqi bombs.

Right!

Anyway. When we first got to the restaurant we ran into some coworkers of BK's, one of whom was all palsy with the bartender and gave him strict instructions to treat us right. Next thing we know we've got two glasses of champagne sitting in front of us, and when that's all gone we order more cause, you know, champagne. It's good like that. Thank god treating us right consisted of comping those first two glasses, though, cause we done drank $80 worth of champagne, people. Sweet fancy moses! It wasn't even the good stuff.

Anyone who has three grand burning a hole in their pocket, feel free to buy me this.

TV has a new superstar, and he sells clothes at Target

Ok, so I haven't actually watched the Golden Globes yet because I don't stay up that "late" any more, but I did manage to TiVo through the red carpet coverage last night. I don't think the show itself could possibly provide better entertainment than Isaac Mizrahi groping ScarJo's boobs, inquiring about the status of Eva Longoria's pubic hair, and telling Charlize Theron that she's looked like an "ugly dyke" in her last few movies. That, internets, is television GOLD.

At long last

I get to find out what happens next to Agent Sydney Bristow, because I am lame and woefully behind. I've never watched Alias on tv, so I've been waiting for season four to come out on DVD for months now. And months. And months. And it's finally here!

Too bad I can barely remember what happened at the end of season three. And that I know Sydney and Vaughn are not Meant to Be because at some point down the road J-Gar and B-Fleck have his character whacked because of Michael Vartan's canoodling with J-Gar back in the day. Damn you, online gossip columns!

Pants on!

36w5d
Originally uploaded by *Karo*.

The doctor was kind enough to allow me to keep my pants on at this morning's appointment, so I have nothing to report for Dilation Watch 2005. I'm fairly certain that nothing's happening anyway, but the news is that as of Saturday, I am technically full-term!

In other news, I have a request for the Spanish-speaking population of the Dallas-Ft. Worth metroplex. Please, for the love of god, stop calling our house in the middle of the night. I am not kidding when I say that we receive weekly middle of the night phone calls, usually between midnight and 3:00 a.m., and they are always in Spanish. Which, as you can imagine, only intensifies the groggy oh-my-god-who-died confusion that middle of the night phone calls always inspire.

BK has left my ass and departed for a recruiting trip to Charlottesville, VA. I hope he enjoys getting to watch the leaves turn as I sit down here in the 100-degree heat. Nothing says fall like oppressive heat and humidity!

What do we think of the fall television lineup so far, internets? I have asked TiVo to record a number of new offerings, and so far all of them have been god-awful except for that Earl show on NBC, which we watched last night. It was funny! Do yourself a favor and stay the fuck away from the Doogie Howser show, as well as the Chris O’Donnell lawyer show. Both stinky as a diaper full of shrimp. We'll see how Martha fares this evening ... and ... new season of Lost begins.

Who needs BK when you have TiVo!

A possible brush with greatness

How excited am I that this Bachelor finalist may help me give birth??? That's right, Sarah B. is an L&D nurse at my hospital. Omigod, if Charlie picks her, I'm totally going to get her to introduce me to Jerry. I'll want to take a shower first, though.

Beseechingly reaching out with the pasty hamhock of despair

I don't really have anything to post, but I used the title phrase to describe the Idol's Scott Savol elsewhere and discovered that I really love myself sometimes.

Update: Uh, make that a felony domestic violence hamhock.