So, I finally had a meal over at Hyde Park Bar and Grill. I went yesterday with Chricel, Adolfo, and Steve. We had a blast, the food was really good, and I got to see some of my artwork hanging up (I got to see my own show...finally!) I always hate it when I never get to see any of my own work. Sometimes, I ship my crap-on-a-stick artwork off to places like Peoria and Timbuktu without ever getting to see it myself. My last recollections are bubble wrap, styrofoam peanuts, and wrapping cartons (mirror cartons, when cut down, work well for shipping photography, by the way. Oh, and, you always want the bubbles from the bubble wrap to be on the OUTSIDE, least they leave little "bubble marks" on the glass. Ah, the useless information I'm filled with these days. What would you do without me? Nevermind, don't answer that...)
The first thing Steve said to me at lunch was, "what in the Hell did you thumb up this time? Were you watching South Park again?" referring to my murderous TiVo. (His is still cursed and there's hope I may, one day, be able to re-program mine, "so there," Steve.)
I also heard horror stories about folks recording nothing but gay TV ("Queer as TiVo," anyone?) and this one poor sap who set up TiVo to record something but, unknowingly, set it on a mission to record nothing but pornography. He brought a date home (first date too, mind you) only to have her "boop" on the TV and get totally grossed out ("Debbie Does TiVo" just doesn't have the same ring to it now, does it?) Needless to say, he didn't get a second date.
I guess, in the grand scheme of things, I'm pretty lucky, seeing as I have a TiVo that just likes to murder people in it's spare time (and, well, I suppose, doesn't like Nick Cage all that much-whoever he is.) Perhaps, I shall try to record a movie featuring Johnny Depp, but then, I've no idea what TiVo would do to him, and frankly, I'm afraid to even speculate after hearing all these nice horror stories. (Ah, technology, doesn't it bring us so much joy? Can't you just feel the love? Nevermind, TiVo's within earshot.)
This is a house I started calling "Help House" because, well, the sign out front (hidding in the bushes-no actually growing in them) says "Our Lady Brother of something something HELP." I can't read it very well, thanks to the blur but, hey, what you see is what you get (isn't that the motto of photography anyway?) If you can make it out, or know what it says, please email or IM me with the details (and, like, I'll give you a nod and a "boop" if I can.)
I don't know who lives here and it's probably safe to say "not Nick Cage" because, well, he's safely trapped in my TiVo (along with, quite possibly, Johnny Depp, Cartman from Southpark, Jeffrey Dahmer, Charles Manson and, um, maybe like one lone episode of Law and Order because I tried. I honestly tried.)
At least it's not a gay porn murder mystery, right?
Until next "Help!"