katernater: (castle (cb) // Working chemical reaction)
Check out what I just bought!
katernater: (dw (10) // And a little bit foxy!)
Following last night's announcement that David Tennant will be hanging up his Converse after the 2009 season, I'm overwhelmed with the urge to go out and buy the third series on DVD. Todd suggested that it should be my birthday present to myself, but I already bought a $40 satchel for myself yesterday (it's pinstriped, you guys) and I can't really justify dropping $90 on DVDs when I already have the episodes on my hard drive anyway. I might. I'm such an impulse buyer, you guys. I will singlehandedly sustain the tanking economy because every time I go outside, I see a sweater that I really like and have to buy it.

[eta:]
I bought it on Amazon for much cheaper than I've seen it in retail stores (thanks, [livejournal.com profile] teh_maskmaid!)
katernater: (xf (msr) // Our stars are the same)
Oh my gosh, I'm so lame and cave so easily under pressure. I traded in Trauma Center 2 because I couldn't look at the box without getting nervous. So I swapped it for The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass which, by comparison, is probably just as nerve-wracking, what with all the battle shenanigans and goings-on. I promise I'll stop talking about my DS, you guys.

The year is picking up so quickly! Two weeks from today -- two weeks from right now, actually -- Todd and I will be on our way to London. We've been planning this trip for almost eight months and it's hard to believe that it's actually happening. Todd is a ridiculously thorough planner (which is good, because I'm, uh, not so ridiculously thorough) and I've barely had to do anything to this point. Now, as the 23rd is gamboling closer and closer, I'm realizing that I have to pack and plan and itinerize so I'm not stressing out at the last minute. I promise I'll stop talking about my trip to Europe.

By the way, did anyone pick this up when it was released yesterday? I saw a poster for it at Target this past weekend, but it didn't give a description of exactly what was on it. Today, on my lunch break, I stopped by the store and checked it out: eight episodes selected by Chris Carter and Co., which are supposedly a good lead-in for the feature length sequel. I have seasons 1-7 already, so I'm not sure if there's anything I'm missing. They have the WonderCon panel on there, too, but I figured that I could just YouTube it. Thoughts? Anyone?

I am buying this when it comes out on the 22nd. And this when it comes out next week. I bought the score to Batman Begins when it came out, what, two or three summers ago? At that time, I was working downtown at an office building, stuffing 10,000 envelopes for insurance collectors. I was able to listen to my iPod while I worked and, honestly, it might've been the only thing that kept me sane.

Someone posted this in the [livejournal.com profile] tonypepper community the other day and it reawakened my love for Iron Man: nerd nerd nerd nerd nerd )

...I think I need to find other ways to occupy my free time. You know, that don't make me seem like I'm twelve.
katernater: (curious (h) // A day-to-day obsession)
Oh, I've just a hit new level of nerdiness. I'm sitting here on a Saturday night, roleplaying the rock 'n' roll apocalypse, downloading new Who, and waiting for my Nintendo DS to charge up so I can play Animal Crossing before bed. If I only had a pair of 2d20s in my pocket, the effect would be complete.

DID I TELL YOU THAT I BOUGHT A NINTENDO DS? I TOTALLY DID.

I'm also afraid to leave my computer to go get a shower, because I'm worried my connection is going to time out and I'm going to lose my download. Because that's happened the last four times that I've tried to download it and, yeah, I'm aware that everyone and their Ood is attempting to download the episode, but damn.

Is it weird that my favourite part of the DS is the stylus? I just love to tap that.

[ ETA: ]
CHARGED! And my download has 18 minutes to go!

Also, I cannot write for beans tonight. Ugh. I blame the unusual volume of sun exposure I got today. I was outside for, seriously, three hours straight. Sometimes I wasn't even in the shade. D:

[ ETA 2: ]
698 MB/698 MB! FREE AT LAST, WE ARE FREE AT LAST!
katernater: (smug (rdj) // The would-be wits)
You guys, I bought so much unnecessary stuff today. That's what happens when I go to Barnes & Noble by myself: it's like taking Star Jones to a Sizzler and expecting her not to stuff pieces of carrot cake into her purse for later. I dropped $150 inside of thirty minutes. I bought the Band Of Brothers DVD set (rationalizing the purchase by calling it "research" for my Master's thesis, which, pfft!, am I right?); Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (I didn't have to rationalize that one to myself); The Great Escape (STEVE MCQUEEEEEEN!); Wit (EMMA THOMPPPPPSON AND CAAAANCER!); To Catch A Thief (a purchase based entirely on this promotional photo); and Wonder Boys (because, someday, I too hope to be able to walk around in a drafty old house in a natty bathrobe, smoking pot and working on a 10,000 page novel that I'll never finish; sometimes I'll go out for drinks with my sexually ambiguous editor; sometimes I'll sleep with the dean of the small East Coast college where I teach -- I have elaborate fantasies for my future.)

I meant to do so much more with my day than buy DVDs. Although, maybe I should be grateful that I still have the free time to do so; maybe in six months -- or, hell, six years -- I'll look back on May 31st, 2008 and call it the "height of my halcyon days" or something equally as pretentious. I hope I'm wearing a pair of pince-nez spectacles at the time. Because pince-nez spectacles are bad ass.

Todd and I are going to lunch/breakfast at 1:30 tomorrow. Is it considered bad form to ask for the breakfast menu at 1:30 in the afternoon? I've been told that it depends on the eatery. I don't know why places refuse to serve breakfast past a certain point in the morning. I know for a fact that I would make a staple diet out of Egg McMuffins if I could. Maybe, when I get famous enough, I'll buy my own plane and just spend my days hopping from one time zone to another, buying Egg McMuffins before the breakfast/lunch change-over. Like I said, elaborate fantasies.

Also. It is impossible to make me interested in anything that Sarah Jessica Parker does.
katernater: (ho-hum (ad) // The creamy moral center)
Last night was RIDICULOUS. Todd and I went to dinner with Todd's family and our waitress acted like she had just graduated from the Arthur Bach School of Waitressing. The standard stuff went down, of course: wrong entree, wrong drinks in the wrong glasses, mixed up take-away boxes. We were all having a pretty good laugh about it (as she was mistakenly pouring water into a lemonade glass, she remarked, "I've been waitressing for six years", the way a recovering alcoholic might tell you he's been on the wagon while he simultaneously orders three shots of Dewar's) and we decided to get dessert. Todd and I ordered a slab (yes, a slab) of chocolate cake that came with whipped cream and a heated whiskey butter glaze. The waitress carried our plates to the table. The cake made it. The hot whiskey butter did not. While our waitress tried to juggle plates to make sure we weren't crushed to death by the falling brick of cake, the whiskey butter slid off the top plate and splashed onto my bare back. It wasn't scalding, but it was warm enough for me to sit up and take notice. That poor girl; you could see all of the colour drain out of her face and slam down on her toes. She immediately pawned off the extra plates and knelt down beside me, trying to scrub the hot caramel sauce off my shoulder with a napkin. "I'm so sorry," she kept saying, "I'm so, so, sorry. That's never happened to me before." I told her it was okay and made an awkward motion toward my back, saying something like, "It's okay, I can reach my own..." trying to indicate that I could take over the clean-up. She looked like she was about to cry: "Oh god, do you want me to stop wiping your back?"

Looking back, if you isolate just the dialogue, it could come across as a really awkward sexual farce. 'Sort of Noel Coward Meets Gordon Ramsay. I half expected a priest on a bicycle to ride by the window, is what I'm saying.

After dinner, Todd and I went to see Iron Man again (fourth time) and we knew the script so well that we ended up quoting half the movie, which had to be irritating for the hippie couple sitting three rows in front of us (but they didn't laugh at the "I'm donating you to a city college" joke -- a joke which is still hilarious to me -- so I don't feel too badly). We rolled out of that place at around midnight and I went home and to bed.

Todd surprised me with my very own Iron Man Repulsor Action Figure and I had fun shooting him in the neck with the projectiles until I fired another one at his dashboard and saw that it left a mark. Sorry, Todd. I said that I wanted to put the action figure in my cubicle, but now I'm doubting that decision. I don't want people to paw my stuff (they already stole my stapler this week and, to make sure I wouldn't notice, they replaced it with a bottle of WiteOut) so I've got him in my bag. It was a hard decision this morning, trying to decide what to pack: Let's see. My action figure, or my sex book? I can only fit one in here. Congratulations, Tony Stark, today you have been closer to my ass that most of the guys I've ever dated.

I went out at lunch and bought Hulk Smash Hands for Todd (because part of me wants to see him take them on the plane to London and have him put them on when they tell us we can't have any more pretzels) and I also picked up the Iron Man novelization, even though I don't think Peter David can write his way out of a six panel comic strip. And also because I am that awesome.
katernater: (books // Newman's Own bibliophile)
Yesterday I felt like someone drenched me with a bucket of ice water. Today I feel like I'm walking around in wet clothes.

I went out at lunch and grabbed a coffee from Starbucks, then proceeded to drop $65 on books (and a Barnes & Noble membership card that, in all actuality, I should have gotten years ago) that made me feel better about my intellectual capabilities while, conveniently, neglecting my emotional ones:

ά. Rubicon: The Last Years Of The Roman Republic - Tom Holland

β. Cicero: : The Life and Times of Rome's Greatest Politician - Anthony Everitt

γ. Ghost Map: The Story of London's Most Terrifying Epidemic--and How It Changed Science, Cities, and the Modern World - Steven Johnson

δ. Avoid Boring People: Lessons From A Life In Science - James D. Watson


Clearly, I'm easily swayed by a clever subtitle.

I used the word "fungible" in conversation today. Next challenge? Apodictic.

Maybe tomorrow. "Did you see last night's House? I really didn't think he was going to be able to solve that one. His powers of apodicticity are amazing!"
katernater: (x-files (msr) // I remember this)
God, I love the little pleasures in life.

Getting a new CD out of its wrapping, for instance, and the anticipation that comes when you open the jewel case for the first time to look at the CD itself. I always hesitate before I open the lid -- will the CD be as cool as the cover art? Will the liner notes be on glossy or matte paper? -- and I've got Sufjan Stevens' "Seven Swans" in front of me right now, awaiting the same treatment.

Here we go...

Ahhh, beautiful. (Answers: Yes; glossy)

Speaking of. It's gorgeous out today. 'About seventy degrees, sunny, and breezy. Fall is my favourite time of year. There are multiple (selfish) reasons for this. I went out at lunch at got a Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks, as well as the Sufjan CD, A Fine Frenzy, and a book that I totally don't need because I'm in the middle of reading at least three other books right now that looks incredibly interesting. I was able to make the entire journey with my windows down, 'Stones blasting. Again, little pleasures.

'Anyone want to watch Fight The Future with [livejournal.com profile] gleam and I tonight? We're having a trans-time zone viewing party. With Jiffy Pop! And sunflower seeds! And moving hallway admissions! Not with bees or Martin Landau urinating behind a D.C. bar.
katernater: (huddy // Battling altitude sickness)
My Threadless order arrived today! I'm actually surprised at the quick turnaround. Given the volume of traffic to the site for the sale, I would've thought that it would have taken 'til the end of the week at least to process my order, let alone ship it. But now I've got four new t-shirts to wear to the office that will take my couture to the next, snarky level.

Also. Is it a coincidence that my iPod has started to fail just when Apple has announced the latest upgrade? The other night it started making these unsettling clicking noises, which from personal experience, means that the hard drive is probably failing. This is the fourth iPod I've had that's gone on the blink after six months or less. Maybe the upgrade will be better managed. Still. I'm sucking all the life out of Little Lisa that I can before she flatlines. Here's hoping.

I finished Wheel Of Darkness the other night and I was, as predicted, unimpressed. I don't think anything can match the effect that Cabinet had on me. And I was surprised by the flap at the back of the book: usually they say that the authors are "working on their next Pendergast novel" when the latest one debuts. Not so this time. Could it be that we've seen the last of A.X.L. Pendergast? Somehow I doubt it. But now I've moved on to High Fidelity (I seriously just typoed Hugh Fidelity) and I'm really enjoying it. I haven't read any other Hornby, but the book is essentially just lifted from the screenplay for the movie. Except in London. With lots of Britslang. Which I'm totally okay with.

After I finish that, I'm moving on to Sailing Alone Around The World, which is about the first solo circumnavigation of the globe (for those of you who don't pay attention to titular context clues). As a bonus? It turns out that it was written by my ancestor -- a very recent ancestor, at that -- on my mother's side. I think that propensity toward solitude is genetic; I could really see myself striking off on a transcontinental or trans-Atlantic trek like that, with just myself for company. On my father's side of the family, we're all astrophysicists and doctors of philosophy. I come from good stock: a mix of adventurer and scientist. (Although I'm hopeless at algorhythms and being outside for anything more physically arduous than a picnic.)

I also filed for "personal days" for the 25th and 26th. I get paid to indulge in my fandom. Rock. I've been going through the S3 DVDs over the past couple of days and I have to say that, as much as I was disappointed with the third season overall, it's been fun to go back and rehash things. The Tritter arc is still random and unnecessary to me, but I like knowing where things are going in the end. It was also worth struggling through again if only to see this again. (And again, and again.)

The last two minutes and eight seconds of this song are the only reason that anyone should ever listen to it.
katernater: (autumn // You can tell by the smell)
Sweet Mary Sunshine, DQ brought back the Cotton Candy Blizzard.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

I've been waiting four years for this thing to make the Blizzard Of The Month rounds again. When Todd and I were in Indy this weekend (when I wasn't dropping $150 on clothes to cope with my depression over Michigan's suckfest of a season opener), we went to the mall and discovered that, lo and behold, the American Dental Association had lost their case against Dairy Queen over the sugar content of said Blizzard, and that Dairy Queen had brought it back in a big way. I've had three over the course of the weekend. This is epicureanism on a budget.

I've got vacation days to burn and I think I'm going to take either the 25th or the 26th off. Or maybe both. I could spend all day Tuesday watching the S3 DVDs, which would lead nicely into the season premiere.

And I switched out a whole bunch of my userpics, which means that I have declared macro war on [livejournal.com profile] bigbetterirish. So, to begin:

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

I should go clean something.
katernater: (piano // My favourite set of 88)
I'm feeling better today. About a lot of things. Thanks, guys.

Like everyone else, I jumped on the bandwagon and purged my credit card at the threadless.com t-shirt sale. I bought the following:

http://threadless.com/product/543/This_is_not_a_Pipe
http://threadless.com/product/548/Shakespeare_Hates_Your_Emo_Poems
http://threadless.com/product/595/A_city_built_on_rock_n_roll_would_be
http://threadless.com/product/642/Nineteen_Seventy_Five

plus a t-shirt for Todd that I obviously can't post a link to. I was going to get this one, but I would probably end up wearing it to work and, you know, make all the amateur ornithologists blush right down to their Audubon Society memberships.

Speaking of blushing.

The average person takes 3.5 seconds to read a billboard )
katernater: (bollocks (abofl) // Bookstore WTF)
My family and I went to dinner at Cracker Barrel tonight and you know how they have that little marketing trap of a store in the waiting-to-be-seated area, right? Well, they had a whole table full of Wood Wick candles and I, being almost entirely driven by scent as a primary motivation for any purchase, picked one up. There's a whole mystique surrounding Wood Wick candles, apparently. Aside from their weighty price tag (I picked mine up for about $24.50 after tax), their great marketing "in" is that the wick itself is made of wood, rather than wax-coated twine. It looks like someone stuck the reed from a wind instrument in the center of the candle. You light the wood and it burns uniformly and, apparently, a lot more cleanly than a regular candle. It's pretty agrarian. And, because of the placement and material, the wick makes a static sort of noise when it burns, not unlike a record with a needle that's gone off the groove. Wood Wick decided to -- brilliantly -- make this their primary selling point.

Their tag line: "Creates the soothing sound of a crackling fire while it burns!"

Because I didn't have enough reasons to be paranoid about leaving an open flame burning in my bedroom, now I find myself looking up every fifteen seconds because I think that "soothing crackling" is actually the "destructive inferno" of all of my material possessions going up in flames.

Destruction smells really nice, though.

Also? I know the best people in the world. I'm so very, very lucky.
katernater: (cam // I can't believe I have a Camicon)
I just dropped $215 on clothes at Macy's.

In 45 minutes.

I went in for one thing -- a new skirt for this wedding I'm attending tomorrow -- and I just started shoveling things into my arms. Bright, primary coloured tops and things with wild, from-the-mind-of-Lewis Carroll designs on them. I was going to go further (they had an amazing khaki bag from Roxy that I wanted to take out of there) but my throat started closing up and I thought it'd be better in the long run (or in the short July 10th through 13th run) that I stopped while I was only $200 in the ground.

But. I mean. It's really, really cute stuff.

My checking account status? Not so cute.

Grrrf. I'm going to be eating PB&J's through the middle of next month.
katernater: (okay // I'm a good man for you)
Dude.

I just found out that the mile that I thought I was running every other night? Is actually 2.1 miles. From my front door, 'round the circuit and back again. 2.1 miles. I guess I was using Nepalese units of measurement. Granted, I was going by the odometer on my car, so there might be some margin of error. But it's still at least twice what I thought I was running when I started out a couple of weeks ago. I'm proud of myself. I'm steadily building up my muscles, pushing farther and faster each time, trying out my endurance to see how far I can keep up a continuous jog or sprint before I have to slow down. Sometimes I go by blocks, other times I pace myself to whatever I'm playing on my iPod ("Get Miles" and "SexyBack" typically get me to move a little faster.) And tonight? As an added bonus? My running attire matched Cuddy's from "Humpty Dumpty":

Right down to the Lipizzaner ponytail )

Which is damn cool.

To celebrate, I bought things with the credit card that I had no business buying, especially when I have to be frugal with paychecks and funds for my trip to Memphis in July. But I figured that renewing my LJ account and add-ons for another year was certainly important, as was buying this and this. I now owe my mother something like $77. Maybe it can be one of those "halfsies rewards" things. You know, a "Congratulations for making it through college without a baby or a drug problem -- let me pay for half of your unnecessary purchases" gesture. Reinforce that kind of behaviour. 'Wonder if she'll buy that.

It'd be nice, especially since Memphis is less than a month away. Todd and I are going to be staying here, which is the latest in a chain of relatively upscale hotels. It's so new that the website doesn't even have photographs -- just that artist's rendering. We're on Beale Street, which is a short walk from the Gibson Guitar Museum (!!!) and B.B. King's Blues Club (!!!!) We're spending two nights at the hotel (and ordering room service from the 24 cart on at least one of them, and at least three o'clock in the morning) and seeing Gomez/The Fray at Mud Island Amphitheater on the 11th. I'm stoked. It's my big vacation for the year -- except when I go visit Kiki in Los Angeles some time in the late Fall -- and I couldn't imagine spending it in better digs or with better company.

I plan to bring back a Gibson guitar. Or at least a picture of me holding a Gibson guitar with a glassy-eyed expression of ecstasy on my face.
katernater: (scully // The enigmatic doctor Scully)
Seeing as my brother was kind enough to shine my car to "patent leather" quality, I figured that it was my duty as a gas-buying, fifteen-over-the-speed-limit going American to take it out for a while and show it off. Which led, inadvertently and completely without forethought of commerce, to a shopping session at Target. I bought a couple of summer skirts, a pair of Limeade green heels, a few shirts (one of which looks like Andy Warhol's bathroom -- or a close approximation, in my opinion), season two of Arrested Development and -- yes, I finally gave in -- season one (and only?) of Firefly.

I also bought the May 31st issue of Rolling Stone (with Keith and Johnny on the cover) because it had a gorgeous picture of Rufus Wainwright inside, and an article in which he describes his fashion sense (or arguable lack thereof). Of his jewelry: "I have three [rings] that I always wear. One is my family ring, one I bought while on drugs in Paris years ago and one Elton John gave me. He's pretty wealthy, you know?"

Jewelry shopping is, for me, already a visceral experience. I can't imagine what it'd be like to do it in Paris while heavily dosed. I'm adding this to my list of Achievable Life Goals Before The Age Of 25.

We took our dogs to the groomer today:

D'awwwwuh. )

And just for fun and potential blackmail:

Here's a picture of my brother getting ready for prom )

I'm nervous about tomorrow night.
katernater: (huddy // And all the men merely players)
Guess who finally decided that giving to charity wasn't a complete crap waste of time?

THAT'S RIGHT -- ME.

Giving is suddenly so...satisfying.
katernater: (conflicted // Vide cor meum)
What follows is a brief (not dial-up friendly) picture diary of my pilgrimage to Ann Arbor, Michigan yesterday.

It was bitterly cold -- one of the coldest Easter weekends on record, I'm told -- but I made my fingers into little photographic soldiers and took as many pictures as I could of the campus (which speaks for itself as one of the most gorgeous locations in the Midwest.) The concert itself was incredible. Ben played for two straight hours, did a solo set, and then crashed together with the rest of his band at the end for a mad rendition of "Bitches Ain't Shit" and a performance of "Kate" that made me latch on to Kiki in the seat next to me and scream "KIKI. IT'S MY SONG" like there weren't at least fifty other Kates in the audience doing the same thing.

Most of the pictures I took at the concert came out blurry. By contrast, most of the pictures I took of bread at the bakery came out like something Ann Leibovitz shot on an "off day." I don't know. The pictures I took of campus came out wonderfully, too (but I suspect that the camera was reacting to the chemical awesomeness that was 'potential Huddy hotspots') and it didn't hurt that Kiki was a fabulous tour guide.

So, without 'ado' of the furthest variety:

The bakery )


The campus )


The concert )

We met up with Kiki's parents at the village Starbucks and turned our headlights toward home. The roads had gotten slick while we had been busy jamming and 'brown note-ing' and a fog covered the moon. At 1:15 we got a call from the other car we were traveling with: they'd sped on ahead in an effort to get home faster and had hit a patch of black ice, spun out of control, and gone off into a ditch. Everyone was physically okay and, aside from a car that looked like a kid giant had used it for teething purposes, we were able to call the state troopers and get a tow truck to pull the car out. 'Got home at about four this morning and fell straight into bed.

Easter this afternoon and work-related pabulum afterward. I'm just now getting to the point where I can finally rest -- no, splay -- on my laurels for the rest of the evening. I had a wonderful time and I'm very grateful to Kiki, her parents, and her parents' gas card for making this weekend possible.

Also. I was going to Photoshop little circles and arrows onto the "campus" pictures to intimate my suggestions as to where House and Cuddy could have gotten the most out of their education, but I thought that would be crass.

And, to be honest, I think that would be too many circles per picture.
katernater: (music // In stereo where available)
If this week's TV Guide is to be believed, Band From TV is releasing a CD/DVD set in June.

I've reached my happy place.
katernater: (huddy // Truer words were never groped)
I keep popping my feet out of my shoes and wiggling my toes around beneath my desk, eager to go barefoot for the rest of the day. Luckily, my place of employ is a fairly liberal place as far as podiatric expression is concerned. Actually, my place of employ is fairly liberal as far as most things are concerned (including, but not limited to: NERF football tournaments between cubicles, fly fishing in the middle of the creative department, the inclusion of a "swear trough" in the lunchroom, and the opinion that watching LOST is still a good idea.)

In-san-it-ry.

I'm schlumping myself out of bed at a cracking early time tomorrow so I can get a good seat at the license branch. 'Finally getting my plates and registration. I was considering getting one of those customizable plates with truncated phonetic sayings on it -- like Houseluvr, Egoc3ntric, or YourAdHere -- but I think I'm just going to opt for something that an inmate at the state prison has arbitrarily stamped out. I'm still in love with my car. I'm still in love with my car's trunk space. Ngggh.

I got paid today. 'Think I'm going to buy the second season of The X-Files.

-- And some Sour Straws. And a new yo-yo.
katernater: (house // Giving up on today kthx)
Some of my favourite moments from last night's 'House' )
Obviously, there are spoilers for "One Day, One Room" beneath the cut.

I gave in to domesticity today and bought a lamp for my cubicle at work. Which, on the surface, makes no nevermind. But to me? 'Used to spending money on dark beer and leg extension surgeries? It's huge. Actually, it's about seventeen inches tall, shade included.

So, to compensate for my pathetic lamp purchase, I made a trip to Borders for Wodehouse and Hesse. And a Ford Mustang wall calendar. Mmm, Sixty-Five-Convertible-With-Automatic-Transmission-And-Original-Interior, I love you.

I also love lamp. And bed.

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