bootay.

Realizing I haven't written much lately, and yes I now see that it feels foreign and uncomfortable, like relearning an instrument you never really knew all that well in the first place.

It is not helping at all that my wonderful new computer seems to have grown cold and resistant to my tender, loving keystrokes: I now have to type extra hard to get that bitch to feel anything at all in order to spell with any accuracy (see that edgy faux-misogynist humor there? if you know me you know how much of a joke that is, if not, you'll just have to trust me, though I must say this here guilty compulsion to explain or preemptively defend myself really makes me seem a bit suspicious doesn't it, plus it totally vanillaizes whatever gritty, unpleasant morsel of humor that might have been there in the first place...ok, yes, great work, back to the sentence in progress), and my hands seem to be getting less instead of more accustomed to the keyboard's off-center alignment. I feel (and seem) a bit more retarded than usual is what I'm saying.

This typing extra hard is the most annoying part, because my computing now sounds like that of a dear old friend of mine who has mannnnny quirks that annoy and endear in nearly equal measure, one of the more annoying being that he types on his laptop keyboard as if he's Diamanda Galas playing Rachmaninoff. Brief, merciful pianissimo sections alternate unpredictably with ornate, extended, pounding ffff crescendos that eventually make you want to throw his computer somewhere very unconsidered. And this is the sound I'm making lately: me no like.

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Cave Cricket 2 back from America today (yip! yip!), crashed out in the bed at the moment. While she's under, let's rummage through her belongings to see what she brought back from the home country.

This was highly exciting: there are approximately three American candy bars that I still like now that my palate has gotten used to European chocolate (sorry America, chocolate is not one of your awesome strengths). Those candy bars are: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Snickers, and Skor, which may just be my favorite of the three due to the fact that I have about one a year (Snickers and Reese's are gettable here) and absence do make the heart ect ect ect. This morning's 20g of Skor resulted in eight minutes of pure unadulterated pleasure, and really, that's almost enough.

Also: Old Bay. We've been making our own for years now, but this is one of those cases where the real thing is the real thing.

Plus lots of other stuff that will be revealed gradual like.

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OK, I've just decided to turn my extended ramblings into two posts. Thus, a quick closing: lovely music downstairs last night to close out the year, a tentet of local bigwigs (and a couple mediumwigs) playing nothing but Ellington, but you know, in that rather freewheeling z100 style. It's supposed to happen every month in 2013 (if there even IS a 2013 haahaaaaa), and I wish you could all be here for it.

And then this morning's wonderfully hangover-free 8am breakfast:

White beans, one egg, my last slice of processed American cheese food, 1.5 cups of spinach, and a heaping tablespoon of zhoug, 450 calories if you're counting that kind of shit. 

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