Bottles and Bruce

I must be the worst blogger ever. This sort of thing being so dime-a-dozen-riffic, I want to make each post count.

So anyway, here's a picture of the carnage the day after. My friend Phil, who I used to work with during my short (but seemingly long) stint as a buyer at Morrell came over and between the two of us, we drank all this! Anime Negra 04 from Mallorca, which is a flavorful red with coffee, leather and dark currant flavors, Artadi 05 white Rioja, full but not overly oaked, and Dulcinea sweet wine from Arger Martucci in Napa, not too alcolholic or viscous, made from late harvest Semillon and Sauv Blanc. OK. OK. At least we had good multi-grain bread, thin slices of lamb prosciutto and spicy Spanish saucison sec, as well as humboldt fog, tumbleweed (cheddarlike from PA) and la serena (Spanish, soft with mild stank), as well as (lordy!) big strawberries and some chocolate truffles, my favorites being the dark caramel sea salt and dark tangerine and ancho chili.

This all started around 4:30 in the afternoon and wound down around 10. I am more clear-headed and productive today than deserved. My alcohol tolerance frankly scares me. The other week I somehow managed to attend a whisky class, have sushi and sake, rose and red wine and then Jameson shots and feel only a mild fatigue the next day.

The kitty is Bruce. Was named Bruce Lee when I found him eight years ago for his karate-like pounce and agility. Still agile, but he got wayyyy bigger than anyone ever predicted. This is a good scale image of him.

Phil? Just good friends. Move along. Nothing to see here.

My Timer, Not the Baby Kind

One of the few good things about being laid off is free time to do things like attend screenings at the Tribeca Film Festival. This bum got to see 6 movies this week! Five of them were awesome, The Eclipse, Team Qatar, Timer, Rudo y Cursi and Moon. One sucked, Handsome Harry. Major flaws, repeated shots of John Savage's saggy pecs and nipples notwithstanding. Director Bette Gordon clearly has some sort of Freudian issue with wetnursing.

But days later, Timer, directed by first time lady director Jac Schaeffer and starring Buffy's brilliant Emma Caulfied, haunts me a bit. It's about people who get these biochemical devices that count down to the moment they meet their one true love, and then chime together when they are in each other's presence. Some meet really early, some have a long countdown, others are blank because their love hasn't gotten one yet. Lots of people don't get them for various reasons, and this fucks with those that have blank ones, always expecting too much out of their timer-less lovers. Some people get a fake one that has a countdown of a mere few months just to have casual sex. Hilarity ensues. But now I keep hearing about people falling in love, and wondering if THEIR proverbial Timer's went off. I keep thinking about people I have loved, and someone I have a big crush on. What if? I suddenly realize my Timer's been blank since high school.