To the girls who sent me their thoughts and love (you know who you are): Thank you for them - for giving me both a pause to think and a reason to give myself a good kick in the self-pitying pants.
Skeetre was in Dayton today, came to visit (now we need to go to Florida and visit him, he says) and we grabbed Lily and Dash to go see The Italian Job. Will make notes on it later. All in all, though, a v. fun film. Was much pleased with the afternoon time, despite later hither-and-yon.
Mini Coopers sell for about $16,900 base, can do 0-60 in 9 seconds, possess a top speed of about 124 mph, and have a 27/33 mpg rating and four-star safety. They are also manual by default (yay!) and come in colours other than confused-about-my-sexuality teal like the one we saw. Despite looking like a cross between a drunken SUV and a v. horny VW Beetle, I think the little beasts are kind of cute. Maybe cute enough to cure me of my Honda loyalty, if we should be in the market for another car soon. Must examine reputation for durability and long-term service records. After all, am used to driving cars that do not flinch at 200,000 miles. Michel-Ange is extremely faithful. Am also concerned about entering a long-term relationship with another potentially gay car. Being spurned by a drag-queen Honda every time my husband drives him is (1) disconcerting and (2) not nice for my car-libido. Tease.
Coopers, due to default stick-shift (implies male car) and genuine ohh-I-want-it cuteness (implies an attention to looks that is potentially overly girly) have me worried. They appear to want to be handled in a v. butch manner, too, which suggests that I will indeed be perilously close to becoming the automotive version of a fag-hag. Any input?
Angel is preparing for bed with an overly snuggly look in his eyes. I think this is my cue to go make sure both of us feel better.
Drive from FW to Indy was relatively uneventful; no real travel stories to tell from the trip. The usual bad driving and tailgating (I was passed by a motorcycle when I was going 80; I dropped back to 70 to let him over in front of me since he seemed determined to go right up the ass of the car in front of me). Minidisc player and radio-frequency worked flawlessly; Michel-Ange's pansy-ass speaker system was quite overwhelmed by most of the bass.
Got stuck behind some Hispanic guy in a tricked-out Caprice - window stickers, gold trim, chrome windshield wipers, the whole deal - going 55 miles an hour in the Passing Lane in a 65 zone. Augh.
Made it down on 1/2 a tank of gas. I should go out and get gas and something for dinner eventually, the S-P's are at a party and I only have about an eighth of a tank left. Have instructions to IUPUI for the morning, but should get gas now so that I do not panic and get pressed for time.
Emerson Auditorium has a wireless access point. The temptation to bring Taika's NIC and try it out is overwhelming. Michael and Diana are v. sweet people, if as patently unique as I remember them being. They have a hot tub. I am going to have to bring a swimsuit. No, Lily-my-love, this does not give you licence to try and get me in a bikini. I am thinking a sensible swimsuit. They spent 20 minutes showing me around and apologising for not being better hosts. I am very low-maintenance. They also have a router, but I am seriously considering acquiring a wireless access point to plug in so I do not have to sit in the family room for 'net access. There's a v. nice couch in my guestroom, and I would like to use it for couchly purposes. Especially late at night. Especially when talking with my Angel.
Two dogs. Barkers, but otherwise well behaved. They even go in their kennels when I ask them to. This is a miracle.
I think the first order of business this evening is going to be to go get gas and food, and then to come back, try out Morrowind, and veg here. Must remember to ask Michael how to get to Curves. Yay for Curves.