Wednesday, June 01, 2005
I got it bad...
and that ain't good.
Ok, so I'm not currently livin' a Nina Simone song of longing and unrequited love. I refer to the Dread Mung. Yes, it is true. I got it bad and the only thing that will make me feel better is miso soup. But since I'm sittin' at home with a day off work, let me give you MY version of "The Visit With Celti"....
While she was on the road heading east at a high rate of speed, I was sitting back watching cartoons, drinking coffee and ordering around all the house elves to clean this, that and the other. It was fantastic! My bathroom hasn't been this clean in years!
Gus the Poog was especially excited. After all, he just sensed there was to be a new person visiting his doghouse who would love him unconditionally and lavish all sorts of attention on him. He's kind of a slut that way, but I love him anyway. After all, I'm a slut about many things... pistachios being one.
The cell phone serenade heralded the arrival of our visitor, so I flew down the stairs, out the door and smack dab in the middle of a big ol' hug from the Celtic Mistress. We grabbed her bags and arrived at my apartment door to a ferocious barking. The poog can be very intimidating behind a closed door when you don't know how big (*small*) he is (I've had pizza delivery boys flee in horror at the idea of a monstrous canine, fangs bared, behind door number one... they're always embarrassed when I open the door and a little ol' poog trots out).
Celti, knowing what to expect, still wasn't prepared for a full-on body smash by the poog (14-18 pounds is the 'norm' for poogs... Gus is hovering around 26, and he's not fat. Really. He's just big-boned). He was all over her. Lickin' an' waggin' an' droolin'... being his normal charming self. But he eventually allowed her access to his kingdom, and after a quick detour to the lavatory, the two of us sat down to chat. Right away, Celti handed me a beautiful green aventurine/silver Celtic knot beaded necklace. I about swooned (and the photo she took of me that is on her site does not show the wondrousness of this gorgeous necklace. When I get over my Luddite tendencies, I shall post a pic... or two... of this past weekend!)
Before we headed to the cavern of George's, we had a wee cocktail with the poog (he kept trying to drink Celti's mead... yes, my dog is a lush). On to Geo's my friend, Jenny, was kindly working my one and only shift, and YES, Celti must've liked her margaritas. 'Recipes' differ from one bartender to the other, y'know, but Jenny's were evidently tasty enough to inspire Celti to drink three. I kept up with that, but 'did' beer instead.
Then we sauntered off to the New Pioneer Coop. We could have spent a lot more time and money there. It's fun to look at all the different cheeses and wines and whatnots, but I hit the motherlode, my friends: 7.5 pounds of free range chicken breasts and thighs for five dollars!!! Maurice (the butcher) scored big time on these and was able to pass the cost on to us. No lie, I about shit my pants. Top that with pistachios, and I was in seventh heaven. Meanwhile, Celti was literally oozing happiness about this stuff called 'lemon curd'. Hard to find you say? Well, come to the Coop. And yeah, Celti also got a stinky hippy patchouli plant... 'nuff said on that front. (...freakin' hippy...)
Back at George's, we ate our lunches from the Coop, drank more, got fuzzier, then decided to come back upstairs to my 'partment so's I could put my chickey in the freezer. For anyone who knows me, my freezer is like a dump in many ways. I buy something I'm not sure what to do with; throw it in the freezer. Got 7.5 lbs. of chicken; into the void with you! Celti actually had to rearrange the thing for me so the chicken would fit. Simply amazing. Perhaps today during my down time I'll clean out the darn thing...
Anyway, long story short, we ended up drinking sloppy virgins and the time got away from us. I had been thinking about taking her to a Mexican restaurant, but when we looked at the clock, it was already 9:30... a little late. So, as any good hostess would do, "Pizza time!" We each ended up ordering a calzone and chowing down. Yes, there was some drunken blogging time spent as well, but I don't especially remember much of that. What I do remember is pinballing off the walls when I went to bed around (I think) one a.m.
Sunday morning came too early... we ate breakfast at Lou Henri's, visited the Coop again and then came here to hang out for awhile. Unlike Celti, I was HUNGOVER. Damn those sloppy virgins, anyway... When the poor girl had to drive home (on a flat tire), I took the easy route: flopped out on my couch and took a nap.
So one word of advice: don't believe Celti when she says she's a lightweight when it comes to drinking! She was fine; I was injured. And I'm still recovering...
Now then, who's going to bring me some miso soup? **cough, cough**
Who dat snappin' back? |
Ok, so I'm not currently livin' a Nina Simone song of longing and unrequited love. I refer to the Dread Mung. Yes, it is true. I got it bad and the only thing that will make me feel better is miso soup. But since I'm sittin' at home with a day off work, let me give you MY version of "The Visit With Celti"....
While she was on the road heading east at a high rate of speed, I was sitting back watching cartoons, drinking coffee and ordering around all the house elves to clean this, that and the other. It was fantastic! My bathroom hasn't been this clean in years!
Gus the Poog was especially excited. After all, he just sensed there was to be a new person visiting his doghouse who would love him unconditionally and lavish all sorts of attention on him. He's kind of a slut that way, but I love him anyway. After all, I'm a slut about many things... pistachios being one.
The cell phone serenade heralded the arrival of our visitor, so I flew down the stairs, out the door and smack dab in the middle of a big ol' hug from the Celtic Mistress. We grabbed her bags and arrived at my apartment door to a ferocious barking. The poog can be very intimidating behind a closed door when you don't know how big (*small*) he is (I've had pizza delivery boys flee in horror at the idea of a monstrous canine, fangs bared, behind door number one... they're always embarrassed when I open the door and a little ol' poog trots out).
Celti, knowing what to expect, still wasn't prepared for a full-on body smash by the poog (14-18 pounds is the 'norm' for poogs... Gus is hovering around 26, and he's not fat. Really. He's just big-boned). He was all over her. Lickin' an' waggin' an' droolin'... being his normal charming self. But he eventually allowed her access to his kingdom, and after a quick detour to the lavatory, the two of us sat down to chat. Right away, Celti handed me a beautiful green aventurine/silver Celtic knot beaded necklace. I about swooned (and the photo she took of me that is on her site does not show the wondrousness of this gorgeous necklace. When I get over my Luddite tendencies, I shall post a pic... or two... of this past weekend!)
Before we headed to the cavern of George's, we had a wee cocktail with the poog (he kept trying to drink Celti's mead... yes, my dog is a lush). On to Geo's my friend, Jenny, was kindly working my one and only shift, and YES, Celti must've liked her margaritas. 'Recipes' differ from one bartender to the other, y'know, but Jenny's were evidently tasty enough to inspire Celti to drink three. I kept up with that, but 'did' beer instead.
Then we sauntered off to the New Pioneer Coop. We could have spent a lot more time and money there. It's fun to look at all the different cheeses and wines and whatnots, but I hit the motherlode, my friends: 7.5 pounds of free range chicken breasts and thighs for five dollars!!! Maurice (the butcher) scored big time on these and was able to pass the cost on to us. No lie, I about shit my pants. Top that with pistachios, and I was in seventh heaven. Meanwhile, Celti was literally oozing happiness about this stuff called 'lemon curd'. Hard to find you say? Well, come to the Coop. And yeah, Celti also got a stinky hippy patchouli plant... 'nuff said on that front. (...freakin' hippy...)
Back at George's, we ate our lunches from the Coop, drank more, got fuzzier, then decided to come back upstairs to my 'partment so's I could put my chickey in the freezer. For anyone who knows me, my freezer is like a dump in many ways. I buy something I'm not sure what to do with; throw it in the freezer. Got 7.5 lbs. of chicken; into the void with you! Celti actually had to rearrange the thing for me so the chicken would fit. Simply amazing. Perhaps today during my down time I'll clean out the darn thing...
Anyway, long story short, we ended up drinking sloppy virgins and the time got away from us. I had been thinking about taking her to a Mexican restaurant, but when we looked at the clock, it was already 9:30... a little late. So, as any good hostess would do, "Pizza time!" We each ended up ordering a calzone and chowing down. Yes, there was some drunken blogging time spent as well, but I don't especially remember much of that. What I do remember is pinballing off the walls when I went to bed around (I think) one a.m.
Sunday morning came too early... we ate breakfast at Lou Henri's, visited the Coop again and then came here to hang out for awhile. Unlike Celti, I was HUNGOVER. Damn those sloppy virgins, anyway... When the poor girl had to drive home (on a flat tire), I took the easy route: flopped out on my couch and took a nap.
So one word of advice: don't believe Celti when she says she's a lightweight when it comes to drinking! She was fine; I was injured. And I'm still recovering...
Now then, who's going to bring me some miso soup? **cough, cough**
