Also, why has baseball not started yet?

I just listened to the Dodgers and Nats on Gameday audio.

I didn't have bugs for lunch.

I had a burrito.

So it's more like you hope you didn't have bugs for lunch, then.

Dear data DVD,

Dude, stop unmounting my volumes!

pissy,
me

WBC is, um, playing around here somewhere. The Crimson Hose played Australia in an exhibition game last night (and smacked them around).

Turns out that, for my team, you'll have a lot more luck hearing them on radio than seeing them on TV, despite their owning their own cable channel. It makes me eager to run my errands, I tell you.

And now I have someone trolling me. Joy. I hate being a sick pansy.

So the theme form the Oscars I noticed was big hair. Lots and lots of big hair. Also, Morgan Freeman is stylin'.

no bugs for lunch.

I made lasagna for friends. One of which , fell off a ladder. (broken arm but too high to cast - so imobilization it is ,plus cracked pelvis. People Ladders are dangerous). for me - used left over sauce, ground beef, and cheese and mixed them with spagetti squash. It was pretty yum,but I should have drained the squash first.

I had lunch with Nutty! So my day is a winner, even despite headaches and all.

And now I have someone trolling me on livejournal.

I'm restraining myself, but let me know if you'd like me to charge in and say "WTF? Seriously, WTF?"

It's such a "WTF? Why are you so STUPID?" day. I suspect that it would not go over well if I pointed out to my client that everyone's life, including mine, would be so much easier if they moved to a Windows-based app.

Slate's Oscar review was way better than Salon's (Cintra's gotten too bitter for the gig. Talk about joyless).

**********

Meanwhile, I needed to look away from last night's production of Crash's "In the Deep." If you haven't blocked out the performance, you'll remember that Kathleen "Bird" York streamed her treacle forth while, upstage, interpretive dancers made like they were escaping from the flames of a car wreck. But the dancers moved very slowly, so it seemed that they were practicing tai chi or, in a more wishful moment, that they were zombies intent upon attacking York and devouring her brain.

While I had no such luck, the Three 6 Mafia did execute some successful mind-eating. For plain energy, engaging incongruity, and funk-psychedelic dissonance, their performance of "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp"—the hook of which will be getting half-consciously whistled around the world this week—was topped only by their acceptance of the best original song award, a spectacle raucous beyond comprehension. I'm only positive that they thanked God and said what's up to George Clooney.

Clooney's wry spirit seemed to preside over the evening. He worked reliably as a punchline for both Stewart and best documentary short co-winner Corinne Marrinan ("I'd like to thank the academy for seating me next to George Clooney at the nominee's luncheon"), and his tauntingly lefty acceptance speech ("I'm proud to be out of touch") earned the one smattering of applause to break out at the Oscar party I attended.