(right here)

 

Couldn’t help myself, sorry.  Came across that in my daily perusings of the Cheezburger Network and it made me happy.  Or happier, I should say, as I already have myself a pot of Gyokuro Kin and am rockin the ELO, which is a recipe for instant happiness, if you ask me.  Also on my list of delightful things for today, I ate lunch at a restaurant that serves nothing but grilled cheese sandwiches and soup.  Not just any grilled cheese sandwiches, mind you, fancy schmancy grilled cheese sandwiches!  I had a gruyere/havarti on rye with tomato basil soup, and it was amazing.  I hear they have a pretty rockin mac and cheese too, which I will have to try at a later date.  Because I will be going back, that is for damn sure.  If you’re in town, check it out: Chedd’s in The Triangle (at the intersection of Lamar and Guadalupe); I hear they’re a franchise too, so check their website to see if there’s one near you. 

And in case you’re wondering, yes we went to the gym last night and I had a blast.  Mick, on the other hand, doesn’t seem too sure about the whole thing yet.  But for me, it felt great to get back into the swing of things.  I’ve always enjoyed exercising and it definitely felt good to burn a little.  And, even better, it doesn’t look like I’m too far from where I left off!  At least on the machines, I’m using the same amount of weight I was three years ago without much strain.  Today I’m getting back on the freeweights, even though I’m sure my form has gone to shit and I’ll probably have to start with 5s and 10s.  Only complaint is the place was a bit crowded, but what do you expect at 5:30?  We’ll see if 4:00 does me any better today.

I did start reading A Game of Thrones yesterday while on the treadmill, but I only got about 10 pages into it.  So no news to report there, sorry.  I’m still working my way through Dune, though, and still really loving it despite having fallen asleep while reading the last two nights.  Not indicative of the novel, just of me being exhausted. 

I wasn’t planning on going anywhere serious with this blog today, but something’s been bugging me all day and I just feel like venting before it stews into anger.  I mentioned earlier that I’m a follower of Amanda Palmer on Twitter; I do this because I think she’s interesting, she’s intelligent, and she’s ballsy.  These are all things I admire in people and hope to cultivate in myself.  Now I don’t give two shits about the Golden Globes, but I did catch the photos of her and Neil on the red carpet and have read some rather snarky postings regarding her outfit and conduct.  I believe the word “famewhore” was tossed around.  And I wanted to grab and shake these commenters violently!  There is a difference between a famewhore attitude and a not-giving-a-fuck attitude.  It may be a blurry one, but it’s there.  And I can understand, in these days of realityTV and people being famous simply for being famous, that people are used to the famewhore celebrity thing and the bitches that sport it (Real Housewives? Jersey Shore?).  But (and permit me to speak about a person like I know them even though I really don’t) I gotta say that from everything I’ve read about the woman, mostly from her own mouth, Amanda Palmer does not strike me as a famewhore.  She is fucked up and weird in the best sorts of ways, talented, creative, and quite a lovely creature, and I think she should be appreciated for those qualities.  And what struck me as ironic is that the commenters and such that were crying “famewhore” also kept repeating the phrase “I’ve never heard of this person” and the like.  I guess what I’m getting at is this: I am so glad I’m not famous.  Because I could see myself getting into many similar situations and cast into a similar pool; I guess not giving a damn should preclude me from worrying about what’s written about me in blogs and on postings, but I think that it would irritate me just a little.  I’d probably act along the lines of Felicia Day in her stand against Vanity Fair: a mature, well-written response explaining my side of things and nicely telling you to fuck off with your ignorant self.  And I guess one of the things that really bugs me is that in both cases (Amanda and Felicia), the prime offenders were women!  And rather than being proud of an intelligent ballsy woman doing what she wants and defining her own happiness, they try to tear her down and belittle her accomplishments.  Can you explain that to me?  I’m not saying we should all lock arms and sing kumbaya and have a big estrogen-fest, but why not give some props to a girl who decides to be more than just a pretty face (even though she’s definitely got one of those too, and a pair of legs to boot)?  Is it ignorance?  Jealousy?  I just can’t understand it.  Whatever it is, I think I speak for a great many when I say “Amanda, I got your back.” 

(That’s when I throw down the microphone and do a Diamond Dave leap off my soapbox.)

Oh yeah, and if anyone has some first-hand (or close) knowledge of hoodoo and/or Hatian voodoo, I’m getting ready to kick off a new screenplay while the other one is lost in the quagmire of not-eve-pre-production.  Shoot me an email or something.  There just might be a pie in it for you!