Saturday thaitea and I went out to buy comic books, more about which see below (though not SeeBelow). That evening, I met up again with Dutcher and Julie, this time at the fabulous Duke of Perth and this time accompanied by so_crates. Much was discussed, including Chana's cute-ass kids, the Star Wars Holiday Special, living in Los Alamos, the loudest rock shows we've ever seen, the inadvisibility of teaching monkeys how to use language, and the expertise of British writers at describing drunkenness and its aftereffects. I myself, having gotten blotto on Friday, managed to stick to only a Skullsplitter and a Laphroig, seeing as I had to do stuff the next morning, but this was a week of overdoing it for me.
Sunday, I had to do some radio-show business, then have breakfast with Lara and theletterr, then do some Christmas shopping, and then come home and write all day, all with kind of a hangover. But it was still a good, productive, and relaxing day; high points included conversation with Lara & Jeff (subjects: vocal exercises, Tarantula A.D., holiday travel plans, cooking for relatives, and the aforementioned Little Goat Guy), getting an e-mail from my amazing girlfriend ninafarina (just returned from a working trip to, oddly, Austin), and....potato chips!
POTATO CHIP UPDATE! Everyone's favorite strongman, calamityjon, is the king of gifting. Why? Because he actually pays attention to people. For example, he paid attention to me when I was whining about how the one thing I really miss about living in the AZ is the ready availability of Poore Brothers potato chips. So what should arrive on my doorstep on Saturday but...a GIANT GODDAMN BOX of this delicious fried tater slices! Six goddamn bags of them! In Jalapeno, Salt & Pepper, Salt & Vinegar, BBQ, BBQ Ranch, and Original Snake flavors! I tell you what, those Poore Brothers salt & vinegar chips...they'll be the death of me. Without question the finest present that will directly result in my premature demise I have received all year. MAN THANKS JON, YOU'RE THE KING! Now I must be even more cleverer in my choice of gifts for him. (Also included in the gift box -- solipsiae, take note -- a dragon t-shirt. Hellz yeah'd!)
DC COMICS' INFINITE CRISIS #2 UPDATE! I know everybody wants to talk about how DC is basically apologizing for the last 20 years of their comics, as if they all sucked; how they're going to have to figure out how to actually change things (as if that were desirable, an arguable point in my opinion) when they'll still have the same writers and editors; how they're going to fuck up my Campaign for Real Time even more by splitting up all the worlds again; how they seem to have decided that any universe not featuring golly-whiz out the asshole isn't worth saving; and how Superman is here to destroy the world to make it safe for Hillbilly Marvel again. But frankly, I don't really have anything to say about any of that, because I was unable to concentrate on anything that was happening, thanks to Phil "Hillbilly George Perez" Jiminez drawing Power Girl with tits the size of potato sacks. Seriously, people. I'm willing to indulge the entrenched comic book habit of making every woman look like Candy Suxxx, but this is absolutely fucking ridiculous. Is there any reason, especially when you are making her the emotional and dramatic center of your story and putting her in highly charged personal scenes where she meets her long-lost foster family, recovers the lost memories of an entire lifetime, and becomes the catalyst for a universal change in your whole storytelling direction, that you have to give a character jugs that are roughly as big as that giant penny in the Batcave? Appalling.