Houston and Otherwise

• My basset hound got a package in the mail today from one of his basset friends in Chicago. Yes, he has a basset friend in Chicago. Actually, we have basset friends all over the country because I belong to an internet basset hound group. I think I've mentioned it here before and how it's one of the nerdiest things I do, but it's also fun to talk to other people who love their dogs as much as I do and I've "met" some really nice people. I've yet to actually meet any of the basset people in real life, which is weird 'cause I never thought I'd be one of those people to chat with strangers on the internet, but I do, almost every day. There's a whole basset hound subculture complete with jargon and special events. Who knew?! I suppose there's a subculture for just about everything in the world when you get right down to it. Anyway, Cohen got a package of treats in the mail. Taking that into consideration along with his twin "girlfriends" in Houston, I guess I now need to acknowledge that a) my basset hound gets more interesting mail than I do and b) my basset hound currently has a more exciting love life than I do.
• Spending four days with my family in Houston has made me realize that they currently have an unnatural obsession with The Pussycat Dolls and the movie Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. Or at any rate, Mom, Chelsea, and Shane seem to have an unnatural obsession with these things. Dad seems to be sticking to his usual obsession with beer and sports, and all of us seem to be continuing our lifelong obsession with saying we're getting up/leaving at [given hour] but actually getting up/leaving [at least one hour later than planned].
• Speaking of Houston, I spent pretty much the entire week training to be some wealthy guy's trophy wife. I lounged by the pool, got an aromatherapy massage, enjoyed dinner at a couple of nice restaurants, drank vodka martinis, gorged myself on the complimentary cheese and cookies that were sent up to our hotel room but then worked out in the workout room the next morning like a hot trophy wife should, and spent someone else's money (Dad's in this case) on a new bag and pretty dresses. Oh, and I did go to the Cubs/Astros game, but only to eat Cracker Jacks and drink margaritas in those giant plastic yard glasses (and no, I wasn't at the game that lasted 18 freakin' innings. We girls missed that one by one day, thank the lord).
• Matthew, Chelsea and I each sampled pretty much the entire martini menu at Guava Lamp on Tuesday night. Do you know if you drink five martinis in a couple of hours you'll be comfortable giving total strangers a poll where the only question is "Spit or swallow"? Ask Chelsea, it's true. [Incidentally, this is something I actually am curious about. What is the actual breakdown on this? And is preference on this--and whether or not it is even done at all--highly determined by generation? I have a very strong preference toward swallowing and can't imagine how spitting could possibly be preferable (You actually have to hold it in your mouth to do that! And then what do you do with it? The mess! I guess the other option is just not to let the guy actually cum-hate that word-in your mouth at all, but then where does it go? Everywhere! The mess, I say again!), Anyway, does my preference put me in the majority? And if the majority of people do swallow, as I think is probably the case, why do people still like to act like that's a big deal? I'd do some research on this but I don't think it's something I should type into Google.]
• I got my scholarship check in the mail yesterday and because I'm taking and therefore paying for less hours this semester and because my scholarship amount actually increased slightly, my check is $1000 more than it was last year. This makes me incredibly happy. I'd love to be able to save some money this year for the looming Months Of Potential Unemployment Following Grad School, and I may actually be able to do it, especially if I keep this waitressing job for a while.
• I love shows where people decorate cakes, and there's a new one on the Food Network! Watching cake decorating shows relaxes me, which is funny because I think actually decorating a cake like that would drive me insane. [My high school physics teacher liked to try to predict our futures and the best he could ever do for me was once telling me I reminded him of a woman on a show he watched that took her aggression out through cake decorating and so I would probably just blow up someday in a really bizarre way. While the emotional breakdown he predicted has yet to happen, I suppose his comments were at least somewhat prophetic. And actually, predicting that I'm going to have a mental breakdown wasn't very nice of him, now that I think about it. Potentially true, but not very nice. ]
• I also love Alton Brown. Seriously. Or I love his TV personality, at any rate. Like most men I've eventually come to love he sort of annoyed me at first but then he really, really grew on me. He cooks. He's smart and scientific and sorta nerdy. He loves trivial facts and talks way too much! He's very detail-oriented and almost anal retentive. He seems like he'd be a good travel companion. He's not scared to try strange new things! He's funny. He's attractive in a strange, less-than-perfect way. He's somewhat effeminate...actually, maybe too effeminate as he verges on ambiguous and Matthew swears he seems gay in person although the Internet tells me he's married and has a daughter (My past dating habits would prove that I do indeed like my men slightly effeminate. I seem to prefer the scholarly and/or stylish and trendy types to the beer-and-baseball fratty types...but there's a big difference between metrosexual and questionably homosexual). Anyway, I've decided that Alton Brown is very close to being the perfect man for me. Judge away.
• I don't think that a small lunchbox-size bag of Kids Munchies and a quesadilla from Taco Cabana constitute enough nourishment in one 24 hour period, but my work schedule was so weird today that I missed all regular meal times and now it's already getting late and I just don't feel like eating anything else. But I think I probably should, I guess. And Pepperidge Farm cookies probably wouldn't be the smart choice, huh?