Dreams + Weird Al's Birthday, observed

So Oct 23 was Weird Al's birthday. To past readers of this blog, you  know that Weird Al has a special place in my husbands heart. And every year he partakes of the twinkie wiener sandwich in honor of Weird Al. See this post from last year.

This year was slightly different. First of all, he did it a day late (shocking!) due to lack of necessary supplies. Second, the brand of cheeze whiz and hot dog was different. (The newly purchased "Easy Cheese" for 2011 expires in 3 months, unfortunately. I keep hoping that someday he can reuse the can of cheeze whiz at least once. NOT that I am encouraging the use of cheeze whiz. Because I am NOT. It is gross. Just want to make that clear.) Third, it took place in Utah instead of California. Oh, how I miss the Palo Alto air. And our old apartment. I SO miss the fridge. And I even miss having no space and the noise of the old wall heater that groaned like the ghost of last Thursday as it turned on and off. Fourth, I was unable to get a picture on his first bite. My camera kept turning off instead of taking a picture. So after two attempts, I changed the batteries and had him do a pretend-eating pose so that there would be some hot dog left if it turned off again. Fifth, David put on his new Weird Al t-shirt in honor of the occasion.

Here are some action shots:

The application of the new cheese. He opted to go with "cheddar" flavor. There were other flavors, but I think his choice was very wise.

This is the pretend-eating moment. I think he overdid it a little.

And here he is looking absurdly happy with his celebratory sandwich. And yes that is twinkie filling on his face.

And now for the really strange part. The final reason this Weird Al Birthday celebration was different from last year's was that this year I HAD A DREAM ABOUT WEIRD AL. Yes. It was technically in the very early hours of the morning on Oct 24, but it was close enough to his birthday to count. Weird Al had invited me and someone else (who I forget) to his house. It was like a special tour. And there was a race track around it. We drove really fast in the car. And his wife looked exactly like Steve Young's wife. (Which is to say, it WAS Steve Young's wife. I know what she looks like because we were in their ward for a while in Palo Alto, whereas I have no clue what Weird Al's wife looks like.)

Now that we are on the topic of Steve Young, I may as well say a few things. I really don't think he should be revered. He is a normal guy. He forgot his tie once at church. And I once saw him holding a diaper bag. I am thinking it probably had a dirty diaper in it too. Or three.

Shakespeare + important evidence of game loss

David and I went to the Utah Shakespeare Festival last weekend. Unfortunately I was sick. But we still had a good time! We saw three plays and got to sleep in a king sized bed, which is so so nice. It is the first trip we've gone on in over two years if you exclude visiting family. And it is probably the last trip for a while because of the alien invader. Here are some pics of us around the festival statues/benches:

This is what happens when you put the camera on a table and try to do a timed shot.

In case you are wondering, David is pondering Yorick's skull. 

I forget the inspiration for this shot. But this is the "Women of Shakespeare" bench and they are all very scary women. And I think I'm supposed to be dead.

David rents his shirt like King Lear. Yeah. (or is it rends?)

And remember how Utah won the BYU/Utah football game? Well, David and his brother Jonny always do a tie exchange depending on the game result. With this year being a loss for BYU, David was lucky enough to get to wear the Utah tie bestowed upon him by the noble Jonny. David wore it to work (at BYU) on a day he teaches two classes! I was hoping he'd get a few dirty looks, but he says not. Psha. But clearly he is VERY excited to be wearing the tie:)

Long Lost Cup

Nearly three years ago, tragedy struck in my kitchen. My long adored mug broke.

It was special. I got it at Los Alamos Laboratory.

Occasionally I would search for it online. One time I saw it on ebay. I cursed myself later for not buying it.

And then I FOUND it again! And bought it immediately. Some things are just TOO important to pass up. Now me and my cup are together again. This week has been like a family reunion--uniting me, Nigel Clarence, and my favorite cup. Together at last.

You may recall this old post about another favorite cup. I would like to inform you it is now my second favorite cup, and this toxic waste mug has now been given back its former position as #1 favorite cup.

Nigel Clarence comes home

I went to the Provo DMV last monday to register my car. But it was like no DMV I have ever been to (which are all in CA). There was no line. There was not even time to sit before my number was called. I was in and out in 10 minutes. And the best part is I got to use my old plates!

I like to name my car. Whenever possible, I try to use the letters from the license plate to make the name.

The first car I drove was called Gina (GNA). The next was Lamar (LMR). After that I borrowed my dad's car  for a while, and called it Sir Gallahad (which came from the model of the car, Gallant, and not the license plate. This is because of the unfortunate circumstance of all arches license plates beginning with the letters z, y, x, or w. Very few names start with those letters!).

And then I bought Nigel Clarence, as in NGC. He was my very own. And I took him to California where he had to be reregistered with new plates, alas. But, I brought my old plates to the DMV with me hoping they would let me use them and they DID! I never thought going to the DMV would make my so happy.

Nigel Clarence has even had 15 minutes of fame. When Google first instituted the streetview option, they got Nigel Clarence in the picture of the house I lived in at the time (in 2006). Woot.

So this post is totally lame and nerdy, but I am excited to have Nigel Clarence be official again. Yaaaaaaay.

the curse of the ex-boyfriend

Once upon a time I was 19 years old. It was at that age that I began to date whom I now refer to as "my semi-pittance of a boyfriend."

This boyfriend, who was never actually acknowledged as such (except in retrospect, hence the title "semi-pittance"), was in MENSA. You know, "the high IQ society." Well. Among other things, this boyfriend was always talking about it. MENSA this, MENSA that. Uh huh. He said he wanted to bring me to their activities. (Let me bring you to my spaceship...)  One of these activities was a regular dinner at The Belgian Waffle (a restaurant in Salt Lake City area). I was semi-interested because it was waffles, and I am somewhat obsessed. But we never went.

So anyway, we dated 3 months and then I was dumped. To be precise, I was dumped onto the sidewalk east of the Merrill Engineering Building on University of Utah campus. Just so you can get a picture of it in your head. I was sad at the time (in my stupidity), but it really was not meant to be. The sole reason he asked me out in the first place was because I knew why the sky was blue (and told him so) and crushed his error-ridden theory relating to the excess of Nitrogen in the atmosphere.  One time we were driving somewhere and he started talking about how he couldn't believe there were people in the world who did not know what "hiatus" meant. I immediately replied that I had forgotten its meaning. (Apparently though since I had only temporarily forgotten its meaning, I was forgiven this grave offense.)

After I was dumped (picture the sidewalk), I had this perverse inclination to take the MENSA test. According to the semi-pittance of a boyfriend, I was definitely fit for their elite status. (But I don't think MENSA is very elite, and is more along the lines of total crap by the way). So I registered to take the exam. I took it. There were 30 people in the room with me in the Salt Lake City Public Library. I found out later that 25 out of the 30 passed. And I was one of them. Lucky me. I guess I passed your stupid test, Mr Hiatus. Passing that test made me feel good though. Not only was I "smart" enough to get in to the supposedly super exclusive MENSA society, but doing it as a sort of revenge against a somewhat snooty ex-boyfriend was a nice touch. (I know this does not seem like revenge. But to someone who was just dumped, it was like a "so there, Mr. Hiatus. I made it into your lame club but couldn't care less.") But really, 25/30 got in? That seems like a lot, even taking into account the type of people who register for a test like that (that is, people who think they're the bomb). One of the questions on the test was for me to identify a spark plug. How is that relevant? I guessed on a ton of the questions. (I had no idea what a spark plug was. I asked someone afterward and realized I'd guessed wrong). (As a side note, the boy sitting next to me at the test wrote down part of my name (after looking at my paper on the sly) and got my information off of the university directory. Word to the wise: a MENSA test is not the best place to meet people. But that is another story.) And MENSA is definitely not as exclusive as they like people to think. I think they advertise that people with the top 2% IQ scores in society get in. Whatever.

So that was almost 9 years ago. My membership lapsed many many years ago and I still get their emails and mail. Please renew your membership. We are desperate for your money. And in retrospect, I realize this is the curse of the ex-boyfriend. I will be forever plagued by MENSA begging me for money.  Thanks a lot. I think I'll change my name and move. (Except I already did that.)

(My apologies to anyone reading this who thinks MENSA is amazing and takes offense. I hope you at least got to eat some waffles.)