He pulls out a jug of lime-green margarita mix that’s probably been in the fridge since last summer and asks, “God, how long’s this been in here?” He puts it on the counter. Neither one of us bothers with the jug of yellow margarita mix that’s been in there for at least two years, nor the jug of sour mix that’s a year old. “These beans have been in there a while now, right?” The Partner takes out the bowl of beans/rice/eggs and puts it on the counter. The microwave dings.

We eat and watch S2E4 of the X-Files. Afterwards we get ready to walk the dog, me going upstairs to brush and floss, The Partner doing whatever in the kitchen. A couple minutes later he joins me in the upstairs bathroom to brush his teeth. “It was the beans that stunk,” he informs me while putting toothpaste on his brush, “I threw them away.”

While brushing I garble out, “Did you flush* them?” He garbles, “No, I put them in the garbage.” I shoot him a look, thinking he’s joking. I asked him again. He nods. I rinse my mouth out and say, “Seriously. Did you really put them in the garbage?” I’m sure I asked him a few more times, shoving him once or twice in the “get out of here!” manner.

I stare at him blankly.

“You’re fucking serious? You put rotting beans in the garbage can? It’s going to stink up the house! Plus, I just took out the garbage today! It’s a new bag!”

“I’ll take it out. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“Obviously! Why would you do that? Were you thinking, ‘Shit, I’ll just dump the stinking food into the new bag, the new bag that won’t have to be taken out for two weeks.’ What the fuck?”

“I guess. I don’t know!”

Later while on the walk he admits: “I did think about it when I dumped the beans into the garbage and they plopped on the bottom.”

_________
*Our garbage disposal is finicky and is currently not working.

The Partner: I can use whatever I want.

Me: No you can’t, not if you want your site to be accessible in the year thirty-one hundred.

The Partner: Did you just hear what you said?

We got home around 1:30-2:00AM and, having been in the car for a short while, I took the dog out back to do his stuff. Looking around at our Outside Stuff (things such as a grill, an outdoor fire pit thing, plant stand, bicycles), I notice the dirt outline on the patio of where The Partner’s bike usually sits. And its sans bike. I look around, thinking perhaps someone moved it, but there’s only the regular stuff and my bike.

“Babe, your bike’s gone.”

“What?”

“I don’t see your bike.”

“What?!”

The Partner went outside to search the yard, thinking a bike by the neighbors might have been his, but found nothing.

“Someone stole my bike.”

The Partner’s bike worked, although it was shitty and most likely needed air in the tires. I took my bike seat off right before winter hit, so that probably made mine less appealing. We bought them maybe four or five years ago at a big box store. Our compact four-door could only fit one at a time, so I had to drive home with one bike, wrangle it out of the car, then drive back to get The Partner and the other bike.

I can’t believe someone stole it. Right out of our backyard even. The past two mornings I’ve gone downstairs and looked to see if anything else has been stolen in the night. It’s Spring Break for the university, so either someone really did steal it, thinking all the students would be gone, or someone thought it would be funny to take our shitty big box bike.

While The Partner feels dejected and we’re both rather pissed our stuff isn’t safe outside right by our back door, we have been planning on buying new bikes for the spring—decent bikes from our local bicycle shop downtown—and this sort of forces us to start planning it out now. Still.

If you could hear The Partner when he says, looking sadly out the back door, “My bike was stolen”, your heart would weep, just a little.

Out of a whopping 1,373 photos, 171 made the cut.

Expand for lots of photos, or head over to the entire Flickr set.

This year audience members who dressed in drag were rewarded with $1 back at the door. I did not dress up this year, nor did The Partner’s mother who joined us (yay!), but The Partner did:

Here’s a shot of the audience about five minutes before the show started:

I was worried this was all the folks that were going to turn out, but here’s a shot from later in the show:

Here are “The Plastics”, from left to right: Jadé, Monica Masters, Stefanie Sexton (top), Samantha Styles (bottom), and Lady Angelica.

Here is Stefanie Sexton as a very pregnant Britney Spears:

Ms Monica Masters:

Jadé jumping rope with her hair:

And with one of the few frat boys who dressed in drag:

With Monica Masters:

“Mature content” abounds:

With hilarity and rough-housing in-between:

Lady Angelica:

This year I had an excellent camera with me and was able to move to the side stage, where I remained for the rest of the show.

Samantha Styles:

Stefanie Sexton:

Right about here the audio cuts out. A guy comes over the PA saying the fire alarm is going off and we need to evacuate the building. Someone pulled the fire alarm in the library, and I’m thinking it was a Christian who was offended either by the beginning banter between Monica Masters and Samantha Styles (which did have some shots against religion/Christianity/neo-conservatives) or by the content in general (queer and “sexually explicit”). Whoever it was, is a fucking asshole. The entire building went outside for roughly 15 minutes until the building was declared fire-free, and then we got on with the show.

Monica Masters:

Here’s Monica knocking over the floor lighting, and it repeatedly falling:

Jadé and her infamous Whitney Houston On Coke impression:

“Powdering her nose”:

Monica Masters getting some of the good stuff:

A lot of the good stuff:

Lady Angelica:

Samantha Styles:

Shaking her rump:

This made me extremely happy:

The gal in Samantha’s crotch was exceedingly annoying the entire night as she was the biggest attention hog I’ve ever seen since my days of high school. Every time she walked past me on her way to the stage she’d stop and pose for me, blocking my view of the real performers. Like I’d take her picture.

Here’s a frat boy who was pulled onto stage:

A little slight-of-hand:

And here’s Samantha, looking through his wallet:

Stefanie Sexton as Paris Hilton (to a punk song about Paris Hilton):

Monica Masters and her amazing energy:

Jadé:

Lady Angelica:

Samantha Styles as Tina Turner:

Banter between Samantha Styles and Monica Masters:

“The Plastics”, some out of drag:

And the ending, thanking the audience for attending and the fraternity for hosting the show:

View the entire set at Flickr.

NEW: Or view them here!

Expand for (lots of) photos.

The Partner and I did our part and went in drag:

While it has become acceptable for females to wear suits, it is still not acceptable for males to wear skirts, as we experienced from all the stares and gapping mouths. Needless to say, The Partner was the hit of the night.

And now for the real performers of the evening:

“The Plastics”, A.K.A.

• Monica Masters
• Samantha Styles
• Stefanie Sexton
• Makenzie Spencer
• Jadé
• Jazmyn James

I only know Monica Masters and Samantha Styles by sight, so not all images have the names attached and I’ve labelled them to the best of my (memory’s) ability. (If you can help or find an error, let me know.)

(On the left, I think, is Makenzie Spencer)

(This should be Jazmyn James, in all her beautiful glory)

(And I think this is Makenzie Spencer)

This is Monica Masters:

And this is the one and only Samantha Styles:

This is the Whitney Houston-while-on-coke impression:

(Taking off the wig was part of the skit. Slightly later, s/he went to the side of the stage and “powdered” her nose. [Unfortunately those photos didn't come out well.])

This is Ms. Monica Masters, the show’s main MC and one hell of a lady:

They did a lot of hip-hop/rap covers, and since we don’t watch eMpTeeVee I have no idea what songs they were or who they are supposed to be impersonating.

In the middle of this gal’s skit her hair came loose.

And eventually came off all the way. (That’s masking tape on her real hair.)

Here is a Cher impression:

And a Tina Turner impression:

S/he was AWESOME!

Here’s a Beyoncé impression:

Complete with whatever guy she has featured in the video/song this is from (played by a frat member):

Near the end a bunch of the frat boys got on stage and danced along:

Then this man came out and I was like, “What, another freakin’ announcement?”

It turned out to be none other than Mr. Monica Masters, the man behind the woman:

The finale was a scene from the musical, Rent:

We hope to see you there next year.

Lots of photos under the fold.

To get the most out of this summer weather, The Partner and I have been taking daily bike rides through town. It’s hot, so we usually dump cups full of water onto ourselves, strap a bandana filled with ice around our necks, and head out. On one recent trip to campus, I caught a few pictures of some chalking:

“In religion and politics, peoples’ beliefs and convictions are in almost every case gotten at second hand and without examination.”

On another trip to campus, we were pleasantly surprised to see several watering stations for the public. The cold, cold water spewing out was a relief on many occasions.

For the Fourth, we had a few friends over for dinner and later, for drinking alcohol and blowing shit up. Nothing mixes better than liquor and explosives.

The Partner was in charge of the community grill (the gas grill, with a full propane tank, was left by a previous tenant and is in complete working order) and cooked up portabella mushrooms and veggie burgers (we did not cook the geode).

The Partner loves to grill.

Everybody got in on the cooking, including this blurry-faced guy — although whether you count reheating food in the microwave “cooking” is relative.

We’re not 100% vegetarian and the meal also included a chicken taco salad made by The Canadian®.

George was begging the entire time.

And what cook-out isn’t complete without some rainwater-filled toilets in the courtyard?

I didn’t take any shots of us blowing shit up because (1) it was too dark and (2) we don’t need that sort of inciminating evidence floating around teh Internets. Let me just say it’s risky when you live next to a busy road.

This weekend was The Partner’s birthday and we went out of town to hang out with his family. On Saturday we went to Deep River Waterpark, where “nobody gets you wetter!”

Although it was The Partner’s birthday, it had been decided (by his family even!) that he would stay home to dogsit and I would go to the waterpark. I think next year we should leave the dog at home with friends so that we all can go (better planning).

To keep the birthday bash excitement going, I woke up Sunday morning with a migraine. LUCKY! After a lot of water, a couple pills, and a few mintues on an inversion table, it had abated by the later afternoon, just in time for an awesome cake made by The Partner’s mother.

All-in-all, I’d say it’s been a good past couple of weeks.

First up, a shot of The Partner at his desk in the office (not to be confused with his “production studio”/office in the basement):

More images below the fold.

The office is where The Partner comes to get away from computers, so he says. A few months ago he moved his desktop to the basement and limited his at-home use of the computer, focusing instead on artistic pursuits. Notice the circa-1940s Underwood manual typewriter to his right. He’s typing on a more “modern” 1980s/1990s electric typewriter. The Underwood was a steal, bought at an estate auction for $2, along with a full box of Jazz (and some Lawrence Welk shit*) on vinyl for $2, and an Olivetti Lettera 22 typewriter for a mere $2 as well. I think this image sums up The Partner’s recently-developed aversion to (computer) technology perfectly. I’m just waiting for his novel and/or gallery opening.

A few weeks ago I purchased a Blue Mammoth Hosta. The leaves won me over; that it’s blooming is an added bonus. Walking through the neighborhoods I’ve seen lots of houses with hostas, but only a few have Blue Mammoths.

Here is George, right before pissing on the pot to mark it as his:

The two smaller flowers are both New Guinea Impatiens, which I’m hoping will survive.

I didn’t expect so many flowers:

More photos at eyeshot.

*movie reference!

EDITED 07-24-08: Link to eyeshot changed to Flickr.

As for here at home, The Partner is out of town (out of town on Valentine’s Day!) to attend a concert with his younger sister and her new beau. We don’t really celebrate these types of “holidays”, luckily, otherwise I’d be pissed off that I have to spend my V-Day with the dog and cats. Not to fear, though, because I have plenty of homework to keep me occupied. Yay.

Here are the Inappropriate Valentines from The Partner that I received this afternoon:

At least they won’t wilt and die or make me gain five pounds.

Much love to y’all.