No One Expects the Spanish Inquisition

Who says my subject posts have to be related to anything? My boss has that entire skit on his iPod. When the people were here to fix my lights, I sat in the design department (hee hee, that's really just the other office) and listened to it. I love me the Monty Python. I blame this neuron firing randomness on rubberneck, whose current post has a subject line from Temple of Doom, but is actually related to the topic.

Dear, dear friends of mine found absloute Geek Nirvana on a train from Rome to the Villa d'Este by cycling through that entire skit from memory. Keep in mind, one of these boys also translated an entire season of Star Trek into Latin. And yes, that is as scary as it sounds. Although he did teach me to say unimaginably rude things in Latin( which I still remember, and no one has taken me up on the rude things in other languages trade yet), and to say "I'm going to Cardiff" in Welsh. He tried to teach me Etruscan, but I ran away screaming. He also stalked my roommate at the time, in the nicest, geekiest way possible, but still.

The other one, whom I still adore to this day - who has a nice wife and baby- after forsaking my affections for someone who would return them (and not tell him in a fit of drunken honesty, that he reminded me of my father, but if he was six inches taller I'd marry him. The fact that he didn't leave me on the Roman street where I had said these things is a testament to what a good person he is) has far better social skills but an incurable adoration of puns. No sheep joke was safe from J. Favorite line of all time, if it ain't Baroque, don't fix it.

He also told me that pigs ate more people every year than sharks did. I believed him for a very long time. And now I am nostalgic for being young (er), and in Rome in that cold, soft light of January.

Strangely enough, my best foreign language is the one that I can say the fewest rude things in. Hmm.

And yes, it has just been one of those days. I promise content or reflection at some point.

Not feeling clever anymore

I'd like the 76 Trombones in my head to stop marching and for my vision to unblur.

I'd like the part of my brain that vacated when I decided to buy self-tanning cream for my back to return.

I'd like part 9B of Blue Eyes to be written already.

I'd like to lay on my couch and follow through with my prescribed plan to watch Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose, Young Frankenstien and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

I'd like to bail on dancing tomorrow night. My only consolation is that despite it being ridiculously cheesy, I am going to dance to the theme from Lawerence of Arabia.

I'd like to have the house to myself tonight. Ain't gonna happen.

I'd like M. to actually record a message on our new phone since he bitched about us having a boring, "this is so and so please leave a message" message. The options he and G. came up with include the following:

a) Welcome to M. and Thea's. And yes, we're still pissed at SciFi for cancelling Farscape. You may now leave a message. (They're sucking up, but I love them anyway. They have no intention of using this one).

b) Welcome to Tyrell Corporation. Replicants please press 1, all others press 2. (The phone doesn't have two lines - this doesn't seem to have stalled their efforts any).

c) Hello and welcome to M. and Thea's (this said in the moviefone voice). For a sensitive, sophisticated comedy about life in L.A., press one, etc.

Why can't they just say, hey, we're not here, leave a message? It's actually infringing on M.'s manhood that I want us to sound like adults when people call us. His friends all have obnoxious messages, so he feels left out. Boys are just so weird. They have now started to call and make fun of the electronic voice that plays in lieu of a greeting.

ETA: Bender meets Tyrell Corp.. This almost made my head stop hurting.