becky haycox

Month: February 2008

  • what i’m doing right now

    Sunday evening, 10:12pm, February 11, year of our lord two thousand and eight.

    I am in the middle of a brisk and pleasant game of Scrabulous on Facebook with a stranger who has revealed is a Canadian military tank builder. The high score on the board so far is “ASH” for 30 points (I managed a triple word score.)

    I am watching my fourth episode in a row of Jon and Kate Plus Eight, which is like oatmeal for my soul: bland and wholesome and utterly forgettable. And habit forming.

    I just finished a serving of Caramel Apple Dessert Square (which is neither caramelly nor square — discuss). I found this recipe on Betty Crocker’s website, when I was searching for something to make with Bisquick, my new favorite substance. However, I do not recommend the Caramel Apple Dessert Squares. Or perhaps it’s the hot dog for dinner that’s causing the internal malaise.

    I am disoriented and groggy after my out of control hay fever compelled me to take a Magic Allergy Pill, which zaps the congestion but also makes me

    1. incredibly euphoric then
    2. sleep like a dead person then
    3. disoriented and groggy.

    I could have written about my spectacular day yesterday, celebrating the Professor’s birthday (with Darling Andrew) in the nearby wine country on the most beautiful day of the year. Or the improv show on Friday that felt pretty magical.

    But no. This is my blog, and my Sunday night, and I am covering you with a blanket of mundanity and tucking you in and saying good night and wishing you great good luck on this coming week.

    foot commercial and scrabulous, originally uploaded by hambox

  • all right all ready

    OK OK OK OK! I have finally done what you told me to do. I couldn’t stand the pressure one more second. Jesus Louisus.

    I have rented Season One of The Wire.

    Just to get you off my back, I am about to watch it. But I have to write this post so I can delay a few more minutes. I am reluctant. The hype, for pity’s sake, all that hype! For a cop show — a genre that I .. I .. sigh. Fine, whatever.

    I will be back, undoubtedly, to eat my words and heap praise and revel in my conversion. I had better, goddamnit, after all this buildup!

    Okay, Wire zombies, here I go. Sam S, I’m looking at you. And Molly, you know what had better be on your Netflix queue within the next few weeks.

  • and i was in bed by 11

    Update: Violet and I both recounted the evening without peeking at each others’ posts, white-girl-Roshomon style. Here is Violet’s. Mine is below. [originally posted February 3, 11pm]

    Last night, the inimitable Violet and I did it up on what we dubbed “The Strip” — a short patch of businesses on Main Street in our small Southern California town. Not downtown, but not as far as the Mall. Kind of near the car-washing place. Right between the used office furniture place and Curves. No. You’ve gone too far. Look for the oddly-strung Christmas lights and the sidewalk littered with cigarette butts. Now you’re on “The Strip!”

    After a noodle soup meal accompanied by mai-tais served in pint glasses, we wandered next store to a nightspot known for its comfy red vinyl booths, blatant disregard for non-smoking ordinances, and the blasting of the rawk, from the Maiden to the Zep and back again.

    The live music began around 10. The young white male lead singer warmed up the crowd by exhorting the “ladies” in the audience to (I paraphrase here) take off their shirts and display their breasts for the duration of the show. They then plunged into a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. Then another one. For they were, unbeknown to us until that moment, a Peppers cover band.

    Our retreat was so hasty that only a pink, Hambox-and-Violet-shaped cloud remained as we headed into the rainy night. We couldn’t even stay for the Rage Against the Machine cover band. Next time, boys. Next time.

    You know, I’ve been rethinking the “offer” made by that lead singer. I think that we ladies thwarted the band’s ability to really reach their creative heights — all because there was no one who offered to disrobe for the sake of rock. For the sake of ART!

    Side notes: Violet and I amused ourselves throughout the evening with Sparklepony (pictured), temporary tattoos, and two finger puppets. Fitting recreation for a night on “The Strip!”

    More note: Remember, commenting ability has been restored its former glory.

  • quickie: drunk history 1&2

    These short videos are funny to me. And the first one features Michael Cera (overexposed? who cares, he’s great)! Salty language in the second one as well as a bit of grossness.

    drunk history! drunk history!

    [thanks, awesome! blog]