Oh joy.

A's won, avoiding a sweep by the Angels on a walkoff grand slam by Ellis. Be of good cheer.

(And if you become a Rockies fan, I will probably disinherit you. Also, Matilda wore the A's jacket all day again, even with her PJs.)

Oh crap, Suzi. I'm so sorry that you've been stuck at the airport this whole time. Muchly sucky.

We got a little lost by exiting the 101 early but we did finally make it down to Pier 39 (Lee and Suz know this already since I was calling them for assistance). Mike had never been and wanted to hit Pier Market for dinner, which was very tasty, actually. Then we watched the sea lions gripe at each other for a minute before getting back in the car and heading to Hollister. Good day.

You know what's the problem with being an expert on something really obscure? No one gets your analogies.

As part of my resolve to keep the kitchen clean even if the rest of the house is messy chaos (with the goal of gradually increasing the amount of house that's respectably clean to the point we can actually, like, invite people over), I've dubbed the edge of the tiled-off kitchen section of our open-plan living area the Lines of Torres Vedras.

I know exactly four people who would understand the reference without recourse to Google or Wikipedia.

Suzi, I'm glad you were able to get on the later flight. Best of luck getting home.

My body is refusing to let me sleep in this hot weather, even with the fan right on me.

Victor, you are really rocking that beard! It really suits you. It gets my vote. But I say this as a dude with a goatee that, if shaved off, would feel like a phantom limb.

We've got the AC units running in the bedroom window and the end window in the other end of the house, the ceiling fans in the living room and bedroom, a floor fan and a table fan.

They're all *loud* (well, except for the ceiling fans). Can't sleep with the hot muggy, can't sleep well with all the noise.

Oh, Suzi! If it makes you feel better, I totally forgot to fly back home to the UK after the LA F-2-F. Like, screwed up by a day, and had just gone to bed on my friend's sofa when suddenly a voice in the back of my head whispered: "Shouldn't you be in midair right now?" And it was so. Had a great time, though - stayed several extra days!

Victor, you rock the beard - something that can't be said of everyone. However, I think I'd say: "Go clean-shaven! Choose clean-shaven!" But it's all good. Good luck with the date, mate!

according to the Urban Dictionary it goes Love Sandwich (FFM), Devil's Three-Way (FMM)

Aha!

thinks

...hang on. Er, for clarification (not that I'm all 'hey, the prospect of me and my friends shagging is totally hot', because, you know - personal bubble! Ack! Head go boom!) but I guess I didn't explain that the friend I was texting is a chick. Tall, stunning (although bafflingly oblivious to this), lean, funny, clever, wordy, arty, kinda geeky...yeah. Not that I have a weakness for hot, witty brunettes or anything, no siree bob. Er. Anyway, up until this whole sofacentric conversation, I honestly hadn't been harbouring any lascivious thoughts about her. Mostly. But now she has broken me.

(The Bloke, incidentally, is shorter [but not shorter than me - at barely 5 ft 3, most blokes are taller than me and thus do not ping me as short], and is both folically challenged and of Jewish extraction. Which, as I realised last week whilst talking to my wee sister, is pretty damned Freudian. Um. Er. Although he doesn't remind me of my Dad! But when you list it like that...um.)

Am home. Am exhausted. Am not sure what is going to happen with work (normally would be there in 4.5 hours from mow). Lost pronouns.

Welcome back! Can you get the day off, d'you think? Best of luck, anyway, love.

Also, while I remember, this:

Hotties aren't single and NGA for like 7 years

Is nonsense. There is no multiple choice questionnaire about recent shaggage involved in deciding whether someone is hot. There is hottitude going on in your photos, and said hottitude has just been validated by...er, a bunch of invisible people over the interwebs. Ahem. A bunch of total strangers scattered around the globe but united by their obsessive love of Joss Whedon's collected works, salad shooters, corsets, apostrophes and monkeys can't be wrong!

...okay. I'm going to stop talking now. Yep. Backing away from the laptop.

So my big news from the Queen's Birthday long weekend: no, wait, my big news is that I have the new 4th Edition D&D rule books. My dad's big news, on the other hand, is that he has just been made an Officer of the Order of Australia (Australia's equivalent to the OBE), for "service to the judiciary and to the law, particularly as Chief Justice for the ACT, and to the community through leadership roles with a range of sporting, educational and social welfare organisations". So that's nice.