yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
Hi, LJ folk.  How was your Memorial Day?  I have to say that mine was pretty nice.

I mixed up some barbecue seitan, along with some homemade barbecue sauce. (I love making barbecue sauce; it's so easy, yet so great once the long long simmering is over!)  We also threw some corn on the grill.  Kevin made coleslaw, and I made some bread.  So in the end we had something resembling Carolina barbecue sandwiches (i.e. pulled pork sandwiches with coleslaw on top of the pork), except that the barbecued 'meat' was a patty.  Also various kinds of tasty summery beers -- you should try Blue Moon's Honey Moon Summer Ale, it's like spicy, citrusy candy, and yet nothing like their spring ale (which was also like spicy, citrusy candy).  After food, we [the roommates, basically, for a sufficiently broad definition thereof] played a couple of games; a five-person round of Puerto Rico, and a round of Chez Geek (which I sat out of in order to write a bad poem).

After Liz and her man had gone to bed and Mollie had left, Kevin and I sat on the couch and watched some more eps of Slings & Arrows.  If you aren't familiar with this show, you should be.  It's set at the fictional New Burbage Shakespeare Festival (similar to the actual Stratford Festival), and follows the off-stage drama surrounding the on-stage drama.  It's completely brilliant.  Those Canadians, I swear, they make some amazing TV.  A quick glance on Wikipedia seems to imply that the third season (from the summer of 2006) was their last; I hope this isn't the case, since from what we've watched so far of the first season it's simply amazing.

Today is a return to the real world of school, but honestly it's not bad.  In an amazing reversal of the usual order of things, the end of this quarter is very low-key for me.  I've got some poems to revise, and that's about it.  Unfortunately, this also leaves plenty of time for self-recrimination.  The poem I wrote yesterday for forms class is really and truly crap.  I mean, it is a turd of a poem.  I'm embarrassed to have sent it out to my class.  So last night I was beating myself up over it, which I normally wouldn't have time for.  Luckily, however, I was able to write a new poem this afternoon that makes me much happier, so maybe that'll be enough to make me feel like less of a hack in class.
yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
Doot-de-doo... I went to Logan & Steve's tonight, for a party which was end-of-the-semester cum people-graduating cum people-leaving.  Took a few pictures (not many, really).  Bother me at some point if I don't Flickr them.  Gnight everybody. 

(Mandi drove.  Typing is hard, thus Mandi drove.  Jesus, I didn't even drink that much!  Turning into a lightweight.  Gnight for real.)

So tired.

Mar. 25th, 2006 01:40 am
yrmencyn: (Default)
What the hell is up with me?  I went and played pétanque, had a couple beers, went to Dr. Stone's party, then went to Duvic's (Chelsea's had bands in both the cover and the "non-cover" sections, boo -- I don't like Duvic's) and was home before midnight.  I dozed off to What Not to Wear.  It's 1:30 and all I want to do is sleep, which is what I'm doing now.  Tomorrow I'll try and figure out a feijoada recipe that approximates what that guy brought to Stone's tonight; it was absolutely amazing.

Guess I need sleep.  Jesus.

PS:  Cold here.  37 degrees outside.  Turned on the heater when I looked at the thermostat and found that my house was sitting at a nice, crisp 60 degrees Fahrenheit.  Stupid March.  Stupid Spring.  I'm going to go to bed now and imagine strong warm arms holding me, because I have officially gone mad.  Bah.
yrmencyn: (Default)
I celebrated St. Patrick's Day yesterday, as did much of Baton Rouge.  As in all things, we celebrated by having a parade.  Of course, that means something different here than throughout the rest of the country.  Here in South Louisiana, we not only march in parades, we throw things as well.  Beads, cups, doubloons.  Other random things.  New Orleans does us one better by also throwing potatoes, carrots, and cabbages.  Yet one more reason New Orleans parties better than most other places: they do your grocery shopping for you.  Nevertheless, we still have a good time.  pictures on Flickr as usual, but here's my favorite parade picture:
DSC00683

So, as yesterday was also Tom's birthday, we partied.  My goodness but we partied.  Started out at Tom and Marianne's before and after the parade, and then adjourned to Richmond's for... well, further drinking, pretty much.  We had not one but two people pass out: Tom and, uh, me.  I'm pretty sure it wasn't the Killian's, nor the Irish whiskey, nor the Abita, nor the Three Olives vodka.  No, I'm pretty sure it was the Pravda vodka that did me in.  I awoke at 4:30am on Rich's couch, hiccuppy and more than a bit confused.  Apparently there was a whole thing with going outside to see Tom passed out on the lawn, but I don't recall it.  Apparently also after the rest of the world went away Rich made dinner for himself and watched SNL 'with' me, Weekend at Bernie's-style, 'cause I know I wasn't conscious.  Various incriminating pictures at Flickr, of course, but here's a lovely Team Vag picture (Team Vag... is a long story):
DSC00708
yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
Mardi Gras in New Roads was quite good.  I woke up this morning feeling execrable, but I managed to convince myself to get into the nice hot shower, which helped my sore throat start feeling better (bad head cold, or maybe allergies - having figured out yet).  Although I left late and got held up by the phenomenal traffic coming in on LA-1, I still got to the party before the first of two parades started (for us), since we were down toward the end of the route.  IT was really a lot of fun.  Julien and Melody were there, and I really don't see them often at all, so that was good, although since we're out of contact I had to start the "I'm going to do Creative Writing" spiel from the top. [BTW concerning CW admits/rejects: first reject on Monday from UTexas.  Somewhat disappointed, but not overly so, and not surprised: it was a long shot anyway.]

The parades themselves were hilariously fun.  Sure, if you go to New Orleans you'll see the elaborate, gorgeous floats with months and months of work put into them.  And yes, there's something to be said for that.  But for my money, the real soul of a good parade is in small towns, where you get two or three marching bands from the area, maybe a dancing school group or two, and most of all the firetrucks that begin and end it.  It's really a community celebration at that point, friends and neighbors gathering to take some time to take pleasure in each other's company.

Afterward, we hung out at Angélique and Dustin's for a bit, then they, Katie, Andy, and I went out in Andy's boat onto False River.  I was never a lake person growing up -- you know what I mean, people/families who go to the lake and boat and fish and swim and etc. -- but I think I could become one.  Riding around in a boat in the summer, feeling the sun beat down, stripping off shirts to dive into the water, barbeques on the pier?  I'm all over that.  I took a picture while we were in the boat that I'm quite happy with:
Boatdrinking )

We ended up at Andy and Jill's, where we feasted on Chinese food and pizza.  And champagne.  And berry-flavored moonshine that Andy was trying to get rid of.  A good day.  And tomorrow, pétanque.
yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
Oh, dear.  It's the ep of Law & Order: SVU that makes me feel dirty.  The perp is the legal ward of a guy who's been abusing him since he was 8, so this abusee kills his guardian.  Fine, great, whatever.  Except... Just like last time I saw this ep, the only thing going through my head whenever the perp is onscreen is "Oh, poor baby.  Come here.  I'll make you feel better."  Yeah, lots better.  I'll make you feel good.

He's the victim of a sexual crime.  That's not kosher.  Except, he's got this weird John Mayer-y thing going on.  I dunno, it works for me.  Mm.  Shh, don't cry baby.  Heh.

Anyway.  I've had a good weekend.  Stayed in Friday night, which many people might think of as dull or sad, but ya know?  I was pretty ok with it.  Watched BSG, baked, read, wrote, did comic things, felt the night air waft through the open window.  Quite relaxing.

Saturday I did a lot of translating work.  I translated poetry until my brain didn't work anymore omigod ack.  Luckily I had other things to do that night :)  Logan and Steve hosted a Winter Semi-formal Extravaganza (otherwise known as an excuse to hang out and drink, and maybe dress up pretty simultaneously).  First though, I caught up to Erin, Mandi, Katie, and Katie's man (?) Steve (not the same Steve as above).  The five of us braved the rain to go to Copeland's Cheesecake Bistro, where we split five appetizers, as the appetizers there are both delicious and entree-sized.  Honestly I think we made out like bandits.  Under the split check, even with a whole slice of cheesecake to myself (Dulce de leche & praline over chocolate cheesecake, mmmm), I didn't crack 20 bucks before tip.  If I'd had alcohol, of course, that would have changed things... but I didn't, so it didn't.

There is such a thing as fashionably late.  If the later you are, the more fashionable you are... girl, we were flawless.  We were couture.  We get to fuck the prom queen, because we showed up an hour and a half late at 10PM.  Eh, regardless.  I have to say, all temporal sarcasm aside, we were looking quite good - everybody at the party was, really.  We (that is to say, we French grads)may not usually dress up, but we're a bunch of handsome devils (and... succubi?) when we put out the effort.  The most common statement I heard directed toward me was "Wow, you clean up well."  Thanks?  Mandi and I ended up closing out the party, along with Steve and Michelle.  We played I Never.  Truths were revealed.  Beer was spat and spilled all over me, Thank you Michelle.  Apparently I said some very funny and/or unexpected things.

Today I was awoken at the crack of noon (gimme a break, I went to bed at 5:15) by telephone and asked (told) to go get food with Mandi and Erin.  We had a delightful picnic catered by Brew-bacher's at City Park.  The day was absolutely wonderful, sunny and 75 degrees.  The live oaks have their leaves, and they are wonders to behold, large and sprawling across the landscape, bending down to graze the ground with their twisting limbs.  So beautiful.  Then we retired back to Erin's to watch Buffy, which just gets BETTER AND BETTER.  I shall marry Alyson Hannigan, who is hilarious and awesome.  It will be a plural marriage, of course, with Nicholas Brendan and Daniel Vosovic (ha!  Patrick), but I think we can make it work.  There are polygamists in Utah, of course, but I don't think they'll accept our love.

Since returning home, I have watched an exceptional ep of Grey's Anatomy, downloaded Mike Doughty's Haughty Melodic and Statistics' Leave Your Name, translated some very hard poems (ugh.  bad luck.), and am now watching The Shawshank Redemption, which is one of my favorite movies ever.  Ah, life.

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December 2009

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