It is entirely possibly I am way the fuck too easily amused. I am proud, though, to have proof that if I had a video camera, movies of Blake are not all I would film. I do have a love-hate relationship with the little fuckers, but this morning I was glad to see this one.
I showed one picture to ÜberBoss and he giggled (he has a great giggle). Actually I emailed it to him and I heard him laugh from my cube, when one of the worst things about the new building is that I am farther away from him than across the hall and therefore hear his giggle less. Haitch, stop reading now. Anyway, he told me that in his first Denver apartment, he kept seeing wet dead squirrels in the alley until finally he asked his landlord (who lived on the other floor of the house). The landlord shamefacedly admitted to having tired of bringing the squirrels he'd captured in Havahart (non-lethal) traps to City Park so now was drowning them, trap and all, in his bathtub.
The worst part of that story to me is why the fuck do these people bring their squirrels to City Park? I live too near City Park to think that's a good idea. The best part is, of course, the irony of drowning Havaharted squirrels.
Haitch and McCarthy were in town today for McCarthy's defense. She called the house to get my work number, which I had been too foolish to provide earlier, and she and RDC talked, and then she called me at work to set up a meeting time and place. I asked if she and McCarthy would have time to see the kitchen before they leave tonight (without me--I am not going to her unshower in Oklahoma tomorrow, which makes us sad). She cracked up, because that's exactly what RDC asked. She said, "It's not important that I see RDC or Blake but I have to see that hood."
I picked her up at noon and we spent the afternoon shopping after toasting Dr. McCarthy. Lord, I miss shopping with Haitch. The camera did not come out to document our hideous finds, as it has before, but our negligently omitting to document them did not mean they were less hideous. We did not find her wedding shoes, but we did debate various possibilities of Things On The Head, like veils and tiaras and earrings and necklaces and hair.
Her hair! is longer than mine. That is so odd. She accompanied me for my mourning-donation chop, and I have seen her only once since, last May right after she and McCarthy and their square of sidewalk all got together. It is only just longer, but in three months when I see her next hers'll be way longer (especially after my pre-wedding cut).
A bunch of us had dinner at Mezcal afterward. I asked the server to take a picture of the seven of us, which she did, the seven of us in the lower left, the giant chihuahua painting in the upper right, and two quarters of the poorly framed shot wasted. And that chihuahua is scary.