Errands in Fuzzy Feet

Ah, bliss! I am indoors briefly on this glorious autumnal day to blog, tidy up my lady's chamber, and relate to you m'brothahs and sistahs, the joy, I say the wond'rous joy Ah have found in running errands...in one's fuzzy, multichromate slippers. God bless the U.S. Postal system for having drive-up boxes - no one need see your feet, and your feet may be comfy without the stigma of fashionable Milan mores. One may even get gas, if one so desires (and can find a spot at the full-service - and surprisingly cheaper! - gas station), all without having, Ah say havin' to step one's never-been-manicured but-who's-lookin-anyway feet encased in a Muppet Monster's cast-aways. Joy. Pretty pretty joy.

And even more joyful. Listening again to Greta's song (see below), and seeing that THE TANGO WORKS! It works, precious, it works! There are still a few places I need to tweak just to make the perfectionist happy in me but...golly. Yeah. So - aherm - yeah. This certainly is a dance, as DJ put it so succinctly when he first had to learn his part, after which one makes babies. And yet (bwahahahhahahah) NOTHING HAPPENS. No clothes come off. No one even kisses on the lips. It's all just...looks. Mwahahahahhahahhahahah! Take that, stupid, fat, tricksy, unimaginative, fearful Hollywood. Meh! I burble my lips in your general direction. Watch me come a wuffling! Yeah, so drink cold water while watching, ladies and gents. This is, um, well - yeah. ;) (That said, of course, you'll be yawning fully, and those actual tango dancers among you will scoff *scoff scoff*. Ach, weel....) To see the tango in low res, same rules applying as below, click here.

Saw Intolerable Cruelty last night. I got some good chuckles out of - most uproariously when the Wheezy Hitman guy mistook his inhalor for his gun. It's terrible, terrible but there was something so...FUNNY about it. I saw Jess there, don't know if she saw me; I politely looked the other way. In the movie theatre (I arrived really late - missed the trailers and the first minute), it sounded like I was sitting next to one of my students (it sounded like his laugh anyway) but I couldn't tell. Regardless there were some teenage boys who were obviously huge fans of the Coen brothers right next to me (although, thank God, with a seat free on either side of me - I hate abutting others in the theatre, except for people I know) and so they and I made for a good audience. The rest of the audience was tolerable, but not laughing as much as they could. One wonders if they thought they were coming for a chick flick and didn't know what to do. It was loverly to be out on my own, though. Such a freeing feeling. Good to be by my lonesome. Rather reminds me of that day off I took a while back, when I bummed around Framingham on my own and gave myself a "mini-retreat." Good stuff.

(And equally good is BELTING songs in one's radio-less car. Grinding out "Skidder-marink-i-dink-i-dink," "Shoes for Dancing" a la Jeeves and Wooster, "Greta's Song" with modulation, "Almost Like Being in Love," "Don't Rain on My Parade" - wooHOO!)

*grin* Jules is dragging me away to go get pictures of the autumn leaves with her before we pick up Jill. Toodles!

Mood: Happy, but feeling a bit rushed now
Music: Midi for Greta's Song
Thought: What a day this has been, what a rare mood I'm in, why it's....