Let's see...What's new?

Not much, really. Yesterday, I was mostly by myself because Eric had rehearsal for the Dana Christmas concert. I keep hearing Eartha Kitt's "Santa Baby" on the radio. We bought some more mint creme oreos, which are AWESOME, I don't care how processed and full of cancer they are, they're good. I can resist other oreos. But not mint creme.

Today, people were pissing me off at work. I'm so tired of dealing with stupid people. Yet I'm going into a case-research position, which means I'll get to deal with them even more. Well, it's easier to tolerate stupid people, though, when they aren't delaying and interrupting your deadline-oriented work. Which I won't have in the new job. So, that's a plus side.

It was weird going to brush up Anna Christie - haven't seen people for almost two weeks. We got some nice reviews, especially in the City Weekly.

Afterwards, went to Sonic for dinner. I love adding random flavors to my soda. I had a coconut coke. I had a cheeseburger. Yes, I cheated on my diet. But I'm working out later AFTER I eat, so at least I'm burning calories after stuffing myself as opposed to before.

Currently, I am sipping piping hot cranberry-pomegranate tea. Try it.

I need to get my tooth/crater extracted. It keeps getting minor infections. Yummy thought, huh? Well, I also need to use up my flex-spending money, so I don't lose it at year end. Time to get new glasses!

"Aight," I'm "outtie". (Enjoy that slang, Mel.)

Melanumpkinhead

Melanumpkinhead, the Melanie of Vengeance.

Or the Demon of Skin Cancer, I guess, depending on how you view the word.

Just had to say that.

Thanksgiving went really smoothly, actually, much to my surprise. There were no political arguments, which was a first. Everyone (like my grandma, aunt, etc.) kept asking me where Eric was, which also surprised me.

Not much else has been going on. We saw SNAP's production of Angels in America: Millennium Approaches. And Brian Zealand has turned into quite the little hottie. College has been kind to him, it has. I told him I'd keep him updated on Acrobat.

I'm about two-thirds through the book House of Leaves. Nicole used to mention this book because she would always listen to the album by Poe that's a related work to the book. The story is pretty darn disturbing, and it's quite an insane read because of the way they present it - it's more or less a creepy story about a house that is somehow larger on the inside than on the outside, and then a hallway appears one day that leads to a labyrinthine, impossibly huge maze of dark corridors, endless stairways, etc...and they hear a strange growl coming from it...you get the picture...

But the way it's presented is what's so freaky. It's presented as a work of non-fiction, even though it's fictional. It's presented as if the house was real and a documentary was made by the family who stayed there, but then the documentary is analyzed by an old blind man, and his manuscript in turn is found after his "mysterious death" by a young man who adds all these long footnotes to the "analysis of the 'documentary'"...and you simultaneously read the story of the house, the analysis of it (very psychologically and philosophically creepy stuff), and see through the one guy's footnotes and random tangents how it affects his life as he spirals into extreme paranoia and hallucinations.

Anyway, I think that's all for tonight, folks.

Pupepabo Feliz!

Mappy Turksmas

Is anyone else annoyed by Christmas music playing before Thanksgiving? Anyone?

That aside, today is Thanksgiving, and my mom is having some big shindig out at the farm (down on the faaarm, enchiladas with cheeese...no, she's not making enchiladas, that's just an inside joke). I guess she's having her whole side of the family (well, her brothers/sisters/mom, not like the WHOLE FAMN DAMILY) out to the farm for the first.

I am bringing pumpkin soup. It was one of those recipes I get in the e-mail. I don't think I'll make it again. It's kind of bland, and it calls for WAY too many onions. Seriously, the whole kitchen just reeked of onions as it was simmering in the pot. When I added the heavy whipping cream, it neutralized the Onion Force a little, but then the soup was bland, sort of like, "Yeah, I could eat this...but why?" So I instead changed the flavor to something that's a combination of both savory and sweet by adding a little cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger. And I've found it makes a better dipper for bread than just by itself as soup.

Anyway, it was a lot of work and little pay-off. You have to chop up all this fresh stuff (like FRESH thyme and parsley, not dried) and then simmer everything for half an hour...

Then comes the fun part: you get to take the soup, ONE CUP AT A TIME, and puree it in a blender. Then put it all BACK into the pot and simmer again for another half hour.

And yay, you have bland oniompkin soup...

(Seriously, it called for an entire cup of chopped onion...in a soup with no whole vegetables or meat.....ONIONNNN!!!)

Oniompkin. That's a new word. Maybe I should cultivate such a thing. So that kids can cry when they carve their Halloween jack o' lanterns. And then you can turn it into Thanksgiving soup. Just scoop out the candle and puree and heat. Enjoy with ennui and a side of general malaise.

ONIOMPKIN!!!

I'm a little goofy today. Maybe I just enjoy having the day off. I'll be so glad to finally work in my new job at Securities America. Yeah, it's research and requires thinking, but I can go at my own pace instead of having all these daily internal deadlines and a schedule to get tons of checks out the door.

So, the shindig at the farm...this should be interesting. I wonder if I'll get to hear more political arguments...not debates - arguments. And I probably will. That's OK. Have some oniompkin soup, and all your cares will melt away - make the conversation and life as boring as this soup. That's the power of oniompkin.

"Oniompkinhead???"

Oniompkinhead, the Demon of the Blahs. He shows up when you're having a great time (or horrible) and suddenly everything's like "Hm...well, this is okay, I guess..."

"EVIL WITCH: For each of man's evils, a special demon exists. You're looking at Mediocrity."

Mostly I'm just annoyed by the amount of time, groceries and effort it took to make that soup.

Okay, well, I better go. Mappy Turksmas, everyone!

Attend the tale of Anna Christopherson

Well, there's opening weekend of Anna Christie, under our belts. Now, for Thanksgiving! I'm going to be making pumpkin soup from a recipe I got in my e-mail. Yay, pumpkins! "Punkinhead???" Mel will get that.

In other news, Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett are my new friends on MySpace. Mrs. Lovett has a clip of the song "My Friends" on her page, and it sounds awesome.

I had this weird dream last night. Most of it was about my parents' dog, Bear, being pregnant with possibly-deformed puppies. o_O Yeah, I don't know... but later in the dream, I walked into some room with that sort of soft, dark kind of sunlight, like an old room with thinly curtained windows...and Laura was there. She was in her Anna Christie costume. And she was crying softly, into a cup. Her tears were falling down her face perfectly into this cup, and the cup was nearly full.

Strange.

David Lynch presents: Eric's subconscious!

So, we went to Border's after the show this afternoon. And I ordered a gingerbread latte (yum!), and the girl at the counter was pouring the syrup, and she starts going, "Ew, it's sticking...there it goes, oh crap, it's everywhere!...gross!...here's your drink...ew, I have sticky arm hair now..." Seriously, this girl was like some crude caricature.

Anyway, now I'm drinking cranberry pomegranate tea. It's tasty.

Can't remember if I blogged this before, but...exciting news for Acrobat...the Shelterbelt is going to let us perform it there in April/May. FINALLY, we have a SPACE! Yay!

Here's some Sweeney, in my head:

These are my friends
See how they glisten
See this one shine
How he smiles in the light!
My friend!
My faithful friend!

Speak to me, friend
Whisper, I'll listen
I know, I know
You've been locked out of sight
All these years,
Like me, my friend!

Well, I've come home
To find you waiting
Home,
And we're together
And we'll do wonders,
Won't we?

(P.S. - he's singing to his razors)