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On Friday night, I recuperated from the week from hell by hanging out with my family. It was one of those nights when everyone was hilarious, music was played and sung and cried and laughed and argued over, and basketball was on the TV. It was loud and crazy as usual, and I sat there thinking that I'm not sure how I lucked out the way I did in the family department as far as having one that endlessly amuses me so. It was a good night. I slept through the entire parade on Saturday morning and headed out of town at about noon. We ate lunch at Cafe Degas -- my crabmeat and mirliton bisque was yum -- and stopped by a birthday party, where I hoped to see a reader who was also going to be there, but we left before she arrived. We saw V for Vendetta at the Prytania, and it was quite enjoyable. I decided I wanted to see it after reading in this review, "perhaps nothing has made me feel this exhilaratingly anti-authoritarian since Hard-On Harry asked us in 1990's Pump up the Volume to 'rise up in the cafeteria and stab them with our plastic forks.'" I mean, really. There's no way an allusion to Pump Up the Volume is not going to make me want to see something. I loved that movie so much when I was fifteen. Watching it over and over was like therapy for me. Which I realize sounds really ridiculous. But it's true. And hello, I just found out that its director also directed Empire Records, which, based on my deep love for both of them, should come as no surprise to me. Anyway, I liked V for Vendetta because it looked cool, had pretty colors, had interesting ideas, and it was loud and exciting and after a Netflix run of movies like Thumbsucker and The Constant Gardener, I was ready for some pure entertainment. Which it was. I'm still kind of surprised by how much I liked it, but I really did think it was a lot of fun. Shelley (happy birthday!) asked me if V and Natalie Portman fall in love, and I said I can't really explain that. She said, "Is it the way Jennifer Connelly falls in love with Jareth in Labyrinth?" Which made me laugh and laugh. I also Netflixed Just Like Heaven recently because I am a sucker for Mark Ruffalo, and apparently I am a sucker for cheese because it was so cheesy but it was really actually delightful and totally worth watching. Maryelizabeth, this means you, what with your Reese love-hate and all. On Saturday night, we ate dinner at Sake Cafe and watched the tape of last week's episode of The Sopranos. After missing last season in its entirety, it was fun to be exposed to the show again. On Sunday, we read the paper over breakfast at Dante's (strawberry pancakes with white chocolate sauce and Grand Marnier whipped cream and of course a side of grits and a side of bacon), went grocery shopping, played Scrabble (me: 300, him: 296 -- I am always shocked when I win because it doesn't happen often), and basically had a lovely weekend. I headed home and cursed like a maniac while trying to assemble the goddamned Dogloo -- which had a sticker on it marking it as a medium even though I ordered a small and paid for a small and a small was listed on the packing slip. There's no way it's a medium -- it's tiny, almost too tiny for Daisy, I think. It wouldn't snap together properly and I was growing more and more enraged but finally it did. I tried to make it seem like the most exicting thing ever by putting a towel and her beloved stuffed fire hydrant inside and by throwing treats in for her to go in and fetch and then having her go in and lie down before she got a treat and praising her insanely. I think this will take baby steps. It's plenty big enough once she gets inside, but I think she's a bit freaked by the small opening. We'll see how it goes.  "I guess I'll go inside long enough to eat this treat."
"Stay inside? Oh, hell no." Just so you know, here's who is awesome: Erin J. Shea.
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