Celebrity Stalking

Hmmm... Rumor has it that the ever-so-yummy Mr. Brad Pitt may be shooting scenes from his upcoming movie at the Capitol on Friday.

Local Brangelina sitings have also been sprouting up over the last several weeks. (Have I mentioned lately how much I love Austin?)

Soccer D-R-A-M-A

Last night we lost an exciting soccer game that kicked off with yet another spectacular fall, this time with my head sliding dangerously toward the wall at an extremely high velocity. The thunk could be heard from clear across the field, followed shortly by the simultaneous sound of synchronized sharp intakes of breath from a few team members thinking the worst. Luckily I only have a bit of a bruise this morning. No concussion, Ma! Thank God for my thick skull! It has saved my butt on many occasions.

This soccer business! Thrilling stuff! And sometimes also explosive. After the match two team members blew up at each other, and one is now threatening to quit. The other, like the ass that he sometimes is, screamed back with an offer to pay her fees right then and there if she wanted to leave. Ugh. Not helpful.

We're going to try to play ambassador and calm people down - a coming to Jesus meeting, if you will. We've had one of these before when players needed to be reined in, but I don't know if it'll work out this time. Oh, the drama... :)

Deep Southern Liberals

This week-end Greg and I ambushed our friends Karl and Terri in Petal, Mississippi as a belated birthday surprise. Our stealthy plan of action was coordinated by Terri. She had been bursting at the seams for weeks trying to keep this secret, and those text updates barely contained her excitement.

We, along with our friends Mark & Brianna and Mike & Amy from Florida, drove through the night and arrived at their garage door at 12:30 a.m. on Thursday evening. Karl had gone to bed at 11 so the plan was to bust into his bedroom and scream SURPRISE! with the camera rolling. But the dogs gave us away, which actually is probably a really good thing considering he sleeps in the nude. No one needs to see that... He awoke, dressed in his robe (thankfully), and peered out the window yelling Who's out there? Who's out there? in the most threatening voice he could muster. When we jumped out, it took a few seconds for him to realize he wasn't dreaming. But in true Karl fashion, he recovered quickly and before we knew it, 4 a.m. had rolled around and we were all drunk and exhausted. Everyone, except Karl, who was ready to kick-start a poker game.

It's been a great week-end filled with lots of drink and bbq. Karl has totally and completely embraced the whole Deep Southern living where bbq and grilling are concerned. He has a huge smoker and is working on perfecting his technique and recipes. This is an undertaking he takes very seriously. Almost as seriously as the cowboy boots he bought when he first moved to Austin from Essex. No telling what further transformation will bring.

He and Terri moved here about 2 years ago, and while they've been enjoying their jobs, the new house, the new pups, the grill, they still haven't found a niche of good friends. Its tough being a liberal in deep South, small town Mississippi without coming under constant fire as being a commie, a traitor, or a heathen. Terri has been suffering in oppression more so than Karl. He, at least, works in a department with culturally diverse professors who haven't been born and raised 'round these parts. Terri, on the other hand, works in an office and has had a hard time finding people who aren't ultra-conservative Christians and convinced that Obama is the anti-Christ (no, seriously. The anti-Christ! Said by more than one person! People she interacts with on a regular, daily basis). The poor thing even personally and deeply insulted one lady in the office when Terri said she wasn't going to take Karl's last name after their marriage. Terri might as well have told her she worshiped Satan and was going to burn down all 23 Baptist churches along the road on her drive home tonight. How do you deal with mentalities like that?

Karl also gets pissed off on her behalf. When they're together, new acquaintances shake Karl's hand. They make introductions, look him in the eye, crack some jokes. But Terri, she might as well not exist at all. She can be standing RIGHT THERE, and she's completely overlooked as part of the scenery or a mere extra appendage, something you briefly note but don't acknowledge. Karl actually has to stop conversations, turn to his wife and introduce her as a living, breathing being capable of human interaction. Its so damn frustrating.

I know. I'm from Texas too. Even in Austin, I've experienced that recently.

Wait a minute... How did I get on this tirade?

Anyway, this week-end serves as a much needed reprieve for many of us, I'm sure. I'm just sorry we have to leave already tomorrow.

Frou-Frou Coffee Fans

My lab-mate Jimmy and I share a deeply religious love of two things in this world:

1. Travel
and
2. Pretentious, wholly unnecessary yet drool-inducing, yuppie-puppie gadgets with which to further clutter our kitchens

The other day Jimmy stumbled upon a new appliance that had us both wide-eyed and excited. Behold, the Bialleti Mukka glass cappuccino maker from William-Sonoma.


Its a stove-top espresso/latte/cappucino maker. People who love frou-frou coffee will love this little toy. With the glass dome, it has the added appeal of hypnotizing us with its engineering brilliance - you can watch as your drug of choice percolates up and froths the milk. Not convinced? Take a look at the website. There's even a video! Then tell me you're not at least a teensy bit tempted.

I do actually own a regular, boring old Mukka. But who wants that when you could have one that makes your espresso and froths your milk too!

If its space that's the problem, this is clearly the wiser choice. One super-deluxe Mukka, minus one old boring one, minus a milk frother (yes, I own one of those too) equals twice as much kitchen space!

Now. How to convince my husband that this purchase of $99.95 + tax could actually be an economical one...

Presenting My Handsome Husband!

Remember when I was reveling in the thought of Greg wearing make-up? Well, here's the product of that day. Click on the photo for the larger version.



Gosh, he's dreamy... Don't you just want to lick your screen right now? Go on - you know you want to!


One of these 3 shots could possibly be immortalized on his company website. While most people were photographed in their lab coats, the photographer, obviously someone with exemplary taste, said Greg had such lovely blue eyes that he should keep his scrubs for part of the shoot.

And then they were converted into black & whites. :)

SXSW Film Festival

While Greg's been away, my sister and I have been taking full advantage of the SXSW film festival.

The films started last Friday and just ended yesterday. That's 10 days of theater hopping and film watching (interspersed with grading of lab reports whenever possible - no, really... I have evidence).

That's also 10 days of sitting in on my backside for hours in dark theaters, some of which serve delicious although greasy and toxic food. The only exercise we've gotten is walking up and down 6th Street from the Paramount to the Convention Center to the Ritz to stand in line for an hour, hoping to get in. This just can't be healthy. Detox is definitely on the horizons.

After 10 days, we've managed to see 27 films, 5 celebrities, countless hipsters & pale, skinny rockers, every shade of dyed human hair possible, endless tattoos, and more lobe stretching than I ever needed to see in my life. Its been surreal.

I'm exhausted and also feeling slightly ill. But it was so worth it. :)

And I just got a call from Greg. He was able to get on an earlier flight so his plane touches down in 52 minutes! Yay!

Ever-So-Faint Baby Pangs

Last week-end, Greg and I were invited to meet baby August at our friends' Claus & Morgan's place. Or maybe we invited ourselves... I don't remember which. Anyway, we went to meet the tiniest 2.5-week-old baby ever and here are some pics.


August was a little forward and made a pass at the boobies so I repositioned him such that there'd be less confusion for everyone.


Although Greg looks deeply confused here, he has, in fact, seen a baby before. He's pulling this face because August got a little fussy soon after I passed him over. And Greg is frustrated because he sees this as some deep cosmic sign that all babies inherently hate him and he will forever be a crap father and has no chance of ever raising a well-adjusted, loving brood of his own and his mere physical contact with any tiny one will always automatically bring them to squirms and crying. Always. And this face is also accompanied by a little whimpering, slightly pouty groan that might as well say Oh, I will never ever ever be a good daddy. I just know it.

But I have to give the guy credit. He persevered. He held on and repositioned and rocked and paced until August was finally happy and comfortable once again. All in all, Greg cuddled with that little darling for 10 minutes, which probably amounted to more baby time than he's ever experienced in his whole life put together.

I, for one, know you're going to be a great daddy, babe. :)


And one last recent photo of August decked out for St. Patty's day.

Honestly, how freaking adorable is that!

The Down-side of Mutual Co-Dependece:

desparately missing him already, having just dropped him off an hour ago.

He's probably still sitting on that plane at the Austin airport and hasn't even left the runway yet. But he will soon and then I have to contend with 3 nights of pillow-hugging, instead of Greg-hugging. Yes, its totally lame and pathetic and sappy, but I can't help myself. Since marrying almost 2 years ago, we haven't spent a single night apart. In the 5 years we've been attached at the hip, we've only been separated once before when I had to go up to NIH in Bethesda, Maryland for training. Needless to say, I'm ridiculously sentimental and pining at this point. I think he is too, but of course, to a much lesser degree. Besides his consolation is that later tonight he'll be hanging out on the beach with his boys. In South Beach, Florida. During spring break. Let me say that again. During. Spring. Break. Why did I agree to this again?

But he's a good guy and deserves a nice boys-only vacation. Its been almost a year since we were in Grand Cayman with Ray and Emma. He hasn't seen Stuart since our wedding. The last time he spent any time with James was 8 years ago! And they'll have to live it up to compensate for another inevitable long drought of no boy-time. I'm just not going to think about all the fake, perky boobies and beach bunny bodies he'll be surrounded with down there. Nope, not going to think about. Not one little bit...

God, I miss that guy...

Spring Break Survival Kit

As I arrived on campus this morning and made my way through the West Mall, or The Gauntlet as I like to call it, I was handed a "Spring Break Survival Kit" by a co-ed representing University Health Services. It was a green, hard-shell, zippered sunglasses case. And when I opened it, this is what I found:

• one sample packet of Banana Boat sunscreen - thank you very much
  
• one condom, wrapped in a cover printed with the assurance "Relax, we've got you covered"
• one small tube of ID Glide sexual lubricant
• one handy-dandy blood alcohol calculator, subdivided for men and for women
  
• a card demonstrating the "Bacchus Maneuver", apparently the correct position in which drunken and unconscious friends should be placed so as to prevent asphyxiating on their own vomit (This, by the way, is one of Greg's greatest fears.) On the back are listed the warning signs of alcohol poisoning and a somber reminder that "Friends don't let friends die drunk"
• a card advertising confidential HIV and STD testing
• and finally a card explaining emergency contraception
  

I see all this and I think to myself God, I should have had more youthful indiscretions when I had the chance. Not that I particularly want to contend with STD's or drinking myself into oblivion, of course. But as it was, my 18-to-22-year-old-undergrad self kept entirely too busy being such a damn Good Girl. I never once drank so much that I woke up with blocks of lost memory. There were no orgies or anonymous sex. There were no hard-core drugs. I didn't even know what pot smelled like until I moved up to Boulder - trying it at least once is a prerequisite for living there, by the way. Thinking back, I let so many debaucherous opportunities slip by. I mean, some really fantastically juicy stuff too. Things I would always remember. Things that bring a naughty smile to my face until I remind myself that I didn't actually take advantage of them.

Like a chump, I abstained and kept at least a semblance of virginal innocence (if not actual virginal innocence). I'm sure I made Mama real proud though.

Ah, missed opportunities. ::sigh:: Whattaya gonna do?

Crap Daughter-in-Law

If I were a better daughter-in-law, I'd remember that today is Mother's Day in Britain. And if I were a great daughter-in-law, I'd remind Greg of this little fact so he could call his mum and shower her with familial love and gratitude for all she's done to bring him up to be the extraordinary man he is today. (Sorry, Ewa.)

But as it is, I am completely reliant on the annual barrage of sappy commercials in order to remember the American equivalent. (Sorry, Mom.)

Just so you know, in case you've forgotten...

We LOVE you both very, very much!