Saturday, August 03, 2002



That is my caveat for those who try to take me too seriously. I'm nicknamed The Smiling Goth, which in and of itself is a paradox.

I'm watching 2001: A Space Odyssey, and I can't help but feel the rage toward evil Lucas and his psuedo-attempt at movie-making. The first set of movies he made the excuse of technology not being up to par with what he wanted to do... in 1977. Ummm... just an observation, but Kubrick managed to make a damned realistic film over a decade prior to Star Wars, with even less technology. I stand by my Lucas Lack of Talent argument, since now he has the "technology" to do what he wants, and he STILL can't do it right.

End Lucas rant du jour.....

On to bigger and better things, like Italian desserts. Oh yeah, I'm talking Tiramisu and cannoli. MMMMMMMmmmmmm..... If you've never tried them, go! Find thee a GOOD Italian restaurant and experience the heaven. I mention this only because I have found an EXCELLENT Italian restaurant in Florida, of all the places. It has the completely steriotypical name, and an atmosphere that screams stereotyped Italian-American (although there were no red and white checkered tablecloths), but the service and food are anything but ordinary. Goodfellas is the name, if you ever find yourself in the Sunshine State in Orlando. It's incredible. This review brought to you by an authentic Italian-American who was raised on real Italian cuisine (don't worry, there's no fluffy bunnies being served up at Goodfellas).

Other than that.. life as I know it. Work work work. And gardening. Dante and I made a trip to Lowe's, and bought about two carts worth of plants, dirt, and flowerpots. My porch has become a jungle. A jungle that Pants LOVES. And of course, that cat tree we got her. It's 8 feet of hilarity, with three shelves of chaos built in... and it's treated with CATNIP. My cat is truly insane. Between playing in the jungle and climbing the cat tree, she's almost in kitty heaven. Right now she's sitting on the porch, staring up at the largest plant as if she's chatting with it. For all I know she could be.

Monday, July 29, 2002



Oooooohhhh.... and I'm back! Seems this lack of sleep thing has started to take over my creativity, too. I've been trying to make up for it in online shenaqnigans, but to no avail. Until tonight, of course. Good ole Puff Chrissy of informed me that I'm in print with my Angry Fudge Experience in the illustrious and locally famous Too Square Magazine. Woo hoo!

But on to my topic du jour. I could go on about the lack of respect that youngins have for their elders these days, but that would so twist my oh-so mellow. I could tell the story of Pants and her new Cat Tree, but I might just save that for later. It's funny. But tonight, the story is the story of A Good Watermelon Gone Bad.

It started about 20 minutes ago, and sent me into a nauseous spiral of laughter. For about the last two weeks, I recall a watermelon being quite at home on the kitchen counter. I don't remember WHEN it got there, or even actually BUYING it, but there it was, and I accepted it as the mystery-melon it was. Tonight, Dante decided to cut into this mystery, and I cringed at his all-too-often-spoken next words, "Hey, Suzi, can you come here a minute and look at this?"

I'm comfortably wrapped in a blanket on the couch, computer on lap, and I sooo don't want to get up. I ask him the ever-popular response that I save for just such occasions: What's wrong? Dante becomes Mr. Mysterio and won't tell me what he wants me to look at. All he says is he "isn't sure" about something-- which could be anything from his discovery of that fungus container we had hiding in the back of the fridge to an all out rush to the hospital over a deep knife gash to the hand....

I finally dragged myself off the couch only to find that there was a massacre in the kitchen. The quartered carcass of a watermelon leaked all over the counter, the inside meat looking a little less than healthy. In fact, if watermelons could get cancer, it would look like the carcass splayed before Dante on the counter. He turned to me and gave me The Look. Then he said, "What do you think? Is this still good?" Why do they ALWAYS ask that?? When there's a black film forming on an otherwise pinkish fruit, why is there a DOUBT? I know the watermelon didn't ask for a second opinion on its diagnosis.

I'm going to miss that mystery-melon hanging out on the kitchen counter.