I'm on hold with Comcast who is attempting to fix my high speed internet connection. I'm pirating someone else's in the building at the moment. Arrrr. Comcast has questionable taste in music. Or this is their devious strategy to make people forget about holding because they can't take the bad muzak selections. I best equate it to that weird music they play in The Sims. You know, when you're doing the shopping option. Does anyone know what I'm talking about here? Probably not.

So what is new in the world of Roomie? She got to see her former roommate, Kate, this past weekend! And it was awesome. We had a good time chilling. We watched "Their Will Be Blood," which led us to talking like Daniel Day Lewis for most of the weekend. Oh how I adore that movie and Daniel Day Lewis. Handlebar mustaches, yeah baby!

This movie was undoubtedly better than that second Chronicles of Narnia movie. I don't quite know what to make of that. I wasn't really expecting a lot, since I thought "Prince Caspian" was one of the more boring Narnia books. But man, this movie was just laughable. For all the wrong reasons. And now Mr. Tumnus. No hot half-goatmen, no glory.

Anyway, it was a good weekend. And I enjoyed the company of not just Kate, but also a very tall gentleman named Sean who is on this site, but we are not friends on this site. I supposed this could be remedied by me friending him or him friending me, but then I also like to think our bond transcends that of average internet friendships. We are, after all, in cahoots. To make Kate's life just a little more interesting and to remind her that U2 sucks.

In other news, I think Kate has just been trying to date me in male form all this time. Nice to know that she's finding that elsewhere. Because I hear that operation takes like five years and I don't quite dig it. I'm still not even completely sure how that even works. And I'm not sure I really want to know. My friend in his/her noble attempt to educates said something about a pump under the prosthetic testicles to make the clitoris inflate...and yeah.

I saw another Jesus car today.

Also, this was the highlight of my day: "Whoa I must be an English hunting dog, 'cause I just spotted myself a fox!"

Well, that and having to exit the Library today with all my "Iron Man" comic books. Policy indicates that we have to show them all our book-like materials before leaving the building. So needless to say, I felt rad. The security guard gave me an awesome look and we both had a, "Yeah Tony Stark." He's one of the main reasons I'll be seeing "The Incredible Hulk." Mmm, Robert Downey, Jr./Tony Stark cameo. And mmm, Edward Norton.

Not digging so much the jolly green giant, but oh well. I don't want another "Transformers" let down. Though speaking of giant robots!

Obama/Optimus Prime for the win!

Obama's Potential Running Mates

I have "Moon River" stuck in my head. Damn you, "Breakfast at Tiffany's." There's just such a beautiful simplicity to the way Audrey Hepburn sings it. And she was pretty hot.

Anyway, I'm really in a mood to travel. I have many a vacation day stored up in the bank. But then I need to save at least five for a beach week. And then another four or five to do my European vacation in the fall.

So...there goes the days in the bank. Well, that was a bummer. The thought was nice while it lasted.

I did read on CNN today about the Met's "Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy" exhibit. This prompted me to email my buddy from work who helps head up that museum and berate him for not informing me about this awesome exhibit sooner. It was bad enough that he didn't take me to the big costume gala with all the celebrities, (imagine, he'd rather go with his wife!). But to not invite me up for my own personal sneak preview? That hurt.

He promptly responded via blackberry that if he only knew what a comic book nerd I was, he'd have had me up to visit. Actually, I could almost feel him reaching through the computer screen and patting me on the head in a most condescending sort of, "Wow, you dork" sort of fashion.

At any rate, next time I'm in NYC, he's going to walk me through the exhibit himself. So that means I'm going to NYC before September 1. Who's down?

I'd ask LC, but she'll probably flake on me.

I had such high expectations for this blog and they sort of fizzled out.

I'll have things to say tomorrow. Or whenever I next feel like writing.

My dear friend and former quasi-roommate took what I discussed in my last blog about the Jesus car run by the blood of Jesus, and took it to a whole new philosophical level.

So this vehicle runs on the blood of Jesus? Communion wine is supposedly the blood of Jesus through the power of transubstantiation, (hey Catholic schooling was good for something besides making me and my friends prey to the naughty fantasy of the male species). Ergo, this Jesus car must run on wine.

However, as Allison put it, seems like such a waste. "I'd rather be drunk and walk." Cheers to that, Allison.

Anyway, if only I had anything of importance to say. The college students on Jeopardy's College Championship are sad excuses for Jeopardy contenders. I'd rock Jeopardy, as I am a fountain of useless information. They just failed the film directors category. It was so easy. The one putz suggested the Coen Brothers as being the directors of "Speed Racer."

That actually makes me angry.

It really shouldn't, and is just further proof that I am a dork.

I got completely sidetracked from this blog in part thanks to a delightful phone call from LC and this abomination of a Jeopardy episode.

I want to go all Samuel L. Jackson on it.

"You are an abomination! You think it could go on like this forever? Living like this with no consequences? There are always consequences!"

The key to reading a part like Samuel L. Jackson is to say the lines like you're really only thinking about the paycheck.

And yet, I still love him.

In other news, I loved the movie "Iron Man." It made my comic book loving heart swell. And Robert Downey, Jr. is dreamy.

Yeah I said it. Dreamy.

I have little to no shame.

There are several ways to walk to my Library and my route is usually decided by my mood. This morning was a walk down the main drag, passing by the backside of the Supreme Court where a bunch of people crusading for holy causes have bought offices so that they can post large signs protesting abortion and advocating the ten commandments. This morning there was a Jesus car parked outside.

What's a Jesus car? Well, if Jesus were to mass produce vehicles, He'd drive a PT Cruiser and paint His name on the side with mad detailing. On the back window was a sticker that read as follows:

Fueled by the blood of Jesus.
Steered by the Holy Spirit.
Powered by God.

And the first thing that came to my mind was, "I wonder how much a gallon of Jesus costs?"

I was supposed to post a drunk blog, but I forgot. Logging offline last night and drunk dialing my California friends seemed much more pressing at the time. Except then I was chastised for not living up to my full drunken blog posting potential. I hang my head in shame.

Anyway, again I lack for anything interesting to say. I woke up late and surprisingly not hungover. I bummed around online. I went for a long walk in the strange non-rain the city is dealing. Sat in the local coffee shop and read The Onion for a bit. And now I'm contemplating a nap. The rain on the tin roof next door sounds amazing.

Or maybe I'll watch the second, or perhaps I should say fifth Star Wars movie. I had a brilliant discussion and got all hyped up talking about the Hoth battle scene with the All Terrain Armored Transports. And then it made me think of the poem that I like, which I will now share. What I can remember, anyway.

Ode to a fallen AT-AT

All Terrain Armored Transport lying in the snow
Like a strangely beautiful fallen sparrow

Once you were terrifying, now you are broken
Once you were glistening, now you are smokin'
Lying on an icy bed

Like you AT-AT, the galaxy is upside-down
Our princess is in love with a scoun-drel

...fuck, that's all I can remember. I love the men of George Lucas Appreciation Society.

I'm such a dork.