Rotate the foodstuffs!

Yar.  Sunday was actually not at all a bad day.  I did some light reading (by which I mean I read 225 magazine mostly), and then... then it was time to meet the new roommate, and her dog.  Yes, that's right folks, there's a new Kregg!  Erin (this will become confusing) is a 29-yr-old woman who's been doing computer work with Rite-Aid for a while now, and who now wishes to get her Pharm.D.  More power to her.  Frankly, I was most concerned about the dog, since I'm hardly a dog person.  Sammy is an American Eskimo Dog, and I have to say... I kinda fell in love with her.  She's rather agèd (15 years), so she's not too manic, but she's very loving.  Phoebe wasn't pleased about the intrusion, obviously, but she handles dogs somewhat better than cats.  She mostly lay in the doorway to the hall and flicked the tip of her tail.

Erin seems nice, although... this meeting lasted 2.5 hours.  Two and one-half hours, people.  That is a Long Damn Time for what Shane, Rebecca, and I all thought was going to be maybe a 20 minute thing.  Unfortunately, we're all too nice to bluntly say "well, I guess it's time for you to be going," so it just... endured.  I started baking in the middle of it, just for want of something to do. (Financiers again.  Passable.  Made them a bit too thick, so they came out somewhat less fluffy than I'd like -- I think next time, in addition to using less batter per mold, I'll probably whip the egg whites until at least foamy, maybe soft-peak.  Anyway.)  Eventually she and Sammy went on their way, though, in time for Rebecca and I to meet up with some of her TFA folk and see The Breakup.

You see, I love a good romantic comedy.  And I don't necessarily mean a well-scripted, non-generic, masterpiece of the genre, although those are appreciated; Love Actually comes to mind.  All I mean is a solid romantic comedy that doesn't stretch, doesn't make me guffaw, and in the end let's me go "Aww.  That's nice."  It's cheap, escapist entertainment at its finest, and despite my intellectual leanings, I'm a sucker for it.  I pretty much always tear up when s/he gets hir (wo)man [anthro, eat your heart out].  So I went into this with fairly low expectations.  I mean, Jennifer Aniston?  Vince Vaughn?  I'm not expecting Truffaut here.  I was pleasantly surprised -- it's certainly no cinematic tour de force, but they hit a lot of notes right on key, and the script didn't end like I would have expected it to, in true Hollywood conformance. 

Sunday night I spent a lot of time online, chatting.  It was rather nice.

Work today... Bah.  I really didn't have enough food in my system at any point, so I was often hungry and less than on my game.  Mandi was in the same boat, so it got weird at times.  The constant contact with her is starting to worry me... Mandi, lass, you're a very good friend, and I don't want us working so closely to fuck that up.  Boo to that.  So, ah, yes.  Not much to say there, really.  Let's not kill each other.  We may have to continue to relax at Erin's by watching Buffy so as not to kill... quel dommage.

Shane and Rebecca leave on Wednesday for Italy.  Erin-the-roommate won't move in until late June, probably, so do you know what that means?  House to myself for weeks.  And what does *that* mean?  Nakee time!  Nothing really planned for that time of nudity, just a lot of walking around unclothed.  Is that so wrong?