Rescue Me.
“Lou sure does have pretty eyes,” Fred said. “Don’t you think so?”
I looked at the TV. “Yeah, he does.”
“No, wait. I didn’t mean Lou. I meant Kenny,” he corrected himself.
I looked at him, so he felt the need to elaborate. “I said Lou, but I meant Kenny.”
“That’s Lou,” I said.
“No, that’s Kenny.”
“That’s Lou AND Kenny, babe. “Lou” is short for “Lieutenant.””
“Oh.”
* * *
When we got to the end of season 2 of Rescue Me, I harassed Fred about downloading the available episodes of season 3. Finally, he showed me how to do it on my computer, and I downloaded two episodes a night and burned them to DVD. We’re about halfway through season 3 now, and that thing with Tommy and Janet? UNCOMFORTABLE. Fred was aghast. I know this because he looked at me with a blank face and said, deadpan, “I am aghast.”
Janet bugs me, because I feel like the actress had a lot of plastic surgery between seasons 1 and 2. The woman’s face doesn’t move. She’s got the same blank expression no matter how she’s supposed to be feeling.
I think our favorite comic relief, though, would have to be Probie and Sean. When those two start talking, they always make us laugh.
I’ve liked Denis Leary since his MTV days, and love to go watch the
Asshole and
Life’s Gonna Suck videos. He’s just really not an attractive man – I think his love scenes in Rescue Me must set the record for number of sex scenes where people are practically fully clothed. And his O face? He looks like a troll, he really does.
Also, I think we ALL know the only reason all those women throw themselves at Tommy Gavin is because Denis Leary is the co-creator, producer, and sometimes writer of the show.
* * *
I’ve also been downloading the entire season of
Starved, the Eric Schaeffer series that only lasted for seven episodes DAMN IT.
BitTorrent ROCKS.
* * *
Fred and I have been talking INCESSANTLY about the new house and came to realize one thing – most of what’s going to need to be done to the inside of the house before we move in will be painting it and changing out the light fixtures. The light fixtures, we do not like. They’re all tin (the woman owner said she found them all online) and though they go well with the house, I find them not at all to my liking. Luckily, Fred and I are in agreement on this.
We want to do things like replace the counters in the kitchen and replace the bathroom stuff (especially the tubs and possibly the sinks), but that’s stuff that’s not a priority to us. We’ll do it eventually, but we can live with what’s there for now. We’re going to be hurting a little for storage space in the bathroom, but luckily there’s room behind the bathroom doors where we could put freestanding shelf units (preferably with doors), so hopefully that’ll help out a bit.
One thing we could do, I told Fred, is get a vanity to put in the master (mistress!) bedroom, which would cut down on bathroom clutter. When I was in Maine, I sat at the built-in desk in the room where I was staying to blow-dry my hair and put goop on my face, and it was kind of nice to just relax there and do my morning stuff, instead of standing in the bathroom like I do at home, looking around, and stressing out over what needs to be cleaned.
Fred went out to the house yesterday morning with the housing inspector, who said that the house is in really good shape for its age. He found a few small things – leaks – that the owners will need to repair before closing, but nothing big. THANK GOD. The phone kept ringing yesterday morning, and I’d look at the clock and panic. Because I wasn’t expecting Fred to call before noon, and every time the phone rang I’d think it was him, ready to sadly tell me “The inspector sunk a knife in the joist and the entire house collapsed!” or something like it that meant we wouldn’t be able to buy the house.
But it was never him calling – twice it was the gastroenterologist’s office*, once the physical therapy office, and once Liz – until a little after noon when he called, I saw his number on the caller ID, and answered it with “Tell me the good news!”
And he did. Yay!
Also, while he was out there, remember how I mentioned in the tour of the new house that the owners had a cat who’d had a litter of kittens they couldn’t find (she’s an outdoors cat, and they left her at the house to help control the mice population. No, I didn’t say “Get that cat fixed, woman!” I WANTED her to sell us the house, not piss her off.)? Well, Fred found them in the garage. They’re still so new their eyes aren’t open yet.
*When the gastroenterologist’s office called the second time, I knew it was them because I had been waiting for them to call me back and tell me when my appointment for the MRCP was scheduled. I was out in the back yard putting peanuts on the fence for the squirrels (can you IMAGINE how many squirrels we’ll be seeing in our yard in the new house? The mind BOGGLES.) when I heard the phone ring. I was way out at the end of the yard, even, which makes it amazing that I heard the phone ring. So I turned and hauled ass toward the house, ran the length of the yard, managed to get to the phone before the end of the fourth ring, AND I wasn’t even out of breath. Go, me!
* * *
I dare you to watch
this and not get teary-eyed (in a good way).
* * *
Someone mentioned in the comments to yesterday’s entry that her husband had one shoulder higher than the other, and it turned out to be scoliosis. Which reminds me of my visit to the physical therapist on Tuesday. I saw a new PT – they like to have you see three different therapists, because they all have their own approach to the therapy, and this was the third one I’ve seen, and I like each one better than the one before – and my PT appointments have fallen into a routine where I climb up on the massage table, they work on my back for 20 minutes or half an hour (sometimes even longer), then they show me a new exercise to do.
Anyway, during Tuesday’s appointment the PT who was working on my back got called to another office to discuss something with another PT, so she asked yet another PT to work on my back for a few minutes. And this PT – Karen, I think her name was – pointed out that the left side of my back is so stiff and elevated compared to my right side that it was amazing. She suggested to the other PT – Brandy – that it might be a scoliosis issue. They had me stand and bend over to touch my toes, and apparently in that position my back isn’t scoliosis-looking at all, which I guess was a relief.
But during the part where they were working on my back, it seriously felt like they were trying to poke their fingers directly through my ribs. It hurt like hell, but in a good way, if that makes sense. By the time they were done with my back, I was yawning constantly, and felt like I needed to go home and take a nap.
In fact, I yawned for the rest of the day and slept like a rock that night.
I saw Brandy again this morning. She worked on my back for half an hour, and we discussed the fact that I’m not having much back pain at all. We’re cutting down my PT visits to once a week for the time being unless I start having problems again.
* * *
We had yet another
fabulous crockpot recipe last night. Of the four crockpot recipes we’ve tried in the past two weeks, all but one have been a big hit. I love it when that happens.
* * *
Last night, we were sitting in the living room watching
Rescue Me.
“Who was that?” Fred asked after Tommy (Denis Leary) had taken a call.
“Janet,” I said.
“Who’s that, his cousin’s wife?”
I gave him a look. “HIS wife. His cousin’s wife is Sheila.” (Sheila annoys me, by the way, but not as much as she did during season 2.)
Let me point out that we’re currently watching season 3 of this show.
Two minutes later, he said “Who do you think took it? Lou?”
“No, Lou was with the other guys.”
“No he wasn’t, he went off after he told them about the p0rn ban, remember?” he pointed to the TV. “That’s Lou, Bessie.”
“That’s not Lou, THAT’s Lou.”
“That’s Kenny!” he said.
“Oh my GOD. Are we REALLY going to have this discussion again?” I said, bugging my eyes out at him. “”Lou” stands for “Lieutenant”, babe! Kenny IS Lou. THAT’s not Lou, that’s Jerry. Also known as “Chief”!”
He truly amazes me.
* * *
Sugs and Boogs, bird-watching.
“Bahahaha! You think you’re going to move us to the country and we’re NOT going to bring field mice in every single day? Suckerrrrrrrrrrrr!”
Such a rough life.
All of today’s uploaded pictures are
hither.
* * *
Previously
2005: If I insert a brillo pad into my ear, will it eventually get to my brain and scrub that song out, or is that an urban myth?
2004: You know, I’m getting PRETTY FRICKIN’ TIRED of finding cricket legs all over the damn place.
2003: “Mother,” said the spud, “That is an excellent idea, for I am going to melt into a motherfucking puddle of goo in about 10 seconds.”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: In the future, the spud will be cleaning her own bedroom, since I took one look at her room and said “Fuck THIS.”]]>