overheardinmyhead

Wishful Drinking

I love Carrie Fisher. Courtney and I saw her one woman show "Wishful Drinking" at the Berkeley Rep last March. She currently is promoting the book version of Wishful Drinking. Yesterday she sat down for an interview with Matt Lauer. If only every interview he conducted was this entertaining.

Random Utterances

Him: How are you today?
Me: Tired.
Him: Me too. Got to bed late and woke up early.
Me: Me too. Did you wake up because of nightmares?
Him: No. You?
Me: Yeah, I kept dreaming I was working for Martha Stewart. That bitch just cannot be pleased.
Him: Gayest. Dream. Ever.
Me: But I haven't even told you about all the stuff she wanted glittered.

--

Me: Drinking coffee before doing office work is like taking a Viagra before watching Schindler's List; neither is appropriate
Them: ... *crickets*
Me: Well, okay, maybe taking the Viagra is appropriate.

---

While watching a fisting scene
Me: Am I the only one watching this and thinking about the Einstein Field Equations

After seeing a distended rectum at the completion of the scene
Me: Okay, let's try this. Am I the only one who looks at that prolapsed rectum thinks of Calabi-Yau manifolds?

W T F ?

Found in the office's kitchenette by the recycling containers.

Angry Little Girls

Courtney and I saw MILK this past Saturday at the Sundance Kabuki Theater in Japantown. It was: Amazing. I've never been in a theater where almost everyone was teary-eyed and sniffling well past the catastrophe into the closing credits.

Before hand we wandered through the Japan Center looking for gifts for others were I found these two shopping bags. The teenage Asian girl in me had to have them for myself.

I'd never seen Angry Little Girls before. They're pretty hilarious. I just love belligerent cartoon characters.

I've got to admit, when I went shopping at Trader Joe's today I felt a little silly loading my groceries up into these bags. But seeing as I live in SF not many people look cross-eyed at a hulk of a man walking down the street carrying something meant for tween girls. Or at least I don't notice them looking at me cross-eyed.