I feel guilty for not having written even the measliest squib in days and days. At work, I changed desk locations and I now sit with my back to my new boss. All this productivity is killing me. Luckily, she works from 7 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., so I get some slack time toward the end of the day.
I had my last review with Gina yesterday, and it went well. Sucker!
Independence Day weekend: pretty damn lazy, as it was too hot to do much besides watch Buffy DVDs and snog, etc. Sunday we got off our collective duff and saw a movie, followed by a long walk around Somerville and dinner at Sabur. Oh yeah, we also trolled the cutout bins at Disc Diggers. Picked up the Raveonettes record for $1.99, as well as a Todd Thibaud disc and a compilation of Firesign sketches that aired on NPR.
I’m a bad Bostonian in that I tend to shy away from fireworks shows: I just can’t deal with sweaty crowds and bratty kids playing catch with M-80s. I think those couple of years I was dragged to Philadelphia’s fireworks extravaganza scarred me permanently. I remember a tribute to Glasnost featuring a horripilatingly hideous Russian rock band followed by the Hooters.
Time to head home and have a glass of the Cabernet of Dr. Caligari.
Please tell me that is a real wine label! It has got to be the coolest name ever.
Oh, man, I wish!