Author: Robyn

loobylu mug, and the When Harry Met Sally dvd. The dvd was a real surprise to me, because I only found out yesterday that it was coming out today! Woohoo! I really made out, considering that I’m also being taken out for dinner tonight. Do my husband and my readers totally rock, or what? Oh, and I got $50 from my parents, a gift certificate to the Hallmark store from my grandmother, and Fred’s dad is sending money. I could spend the money I got on Amazon and clear out my wish list. But then, I DO have about six gazillion books waiting for me to read them, so maybe not. Despite the fact that it was my birthday and the little devil on my shoulder was urging me not to, I actually rolled my ass out of bed and exercised first thing this morning. That little devil, he’s not as powerful as he used to be. Miz Poo has a new little weird thing that she does. I’ll be laying on the bed, on top of the covers, talking to Fred, and she’ll jump up behind me, and start digging at my clothes. Around and around me she goes, diggingdiggingdigging. All I can figure is that she thinks my clothes are blankets and she wants to join me under them. You’d think she’d have learned after several hundred futile digging attempts, wouldn’t you? I’m starting to get annoyed with the video store we frequent. It’s a large store and you get to keep the movies for 5 nights, which is cool. HOWEVER, nothing is where it should be in this store. There are comedy movies put in the drama section, there are exercise videos stuck in the horror section (I think you know what I’m thinking, don’t you?), and even if the movies are in the right section, they’re not in the right part of the section. In other words, they’re supposed to be alphabetized, but they’re all mixed up, and it really ticks me off to have to spend ten minutes looking for The Joy Luck Club, only to find it somewhere in the Ys. The other thing that ticks me off is that they NEVER have the dvds of new releases out when I show up sometime after 11:00. And today, The Wonder Boys was nowhere to be found, even though from everything I’ve heard, it came out today. When I asked the girl working behind the counter, she had NO FUCKING CLUE. And they’ve always got new managers coming in and frigging around with the layout. Like I said, it’s starting to piss me off, and I may have to change allegiances back to the movie store we used to frequent. Again, thanks to y’all for the kind eCards and birthday wishes. I truly appreciate them, and you’ve made this a birthday to remember. —–]]>

thought I knew), so that’s all I’m singing. Over and over and over again. Miz Poo’s getting pretty tired of it, too. If you’re still stuck on what to get me for my birthday, this will do. It’s apparently $4000 for an off-season week. Oh heck, why not go all out and just buy me the damn island? 🙂 So Fred’s biting the bullet and taking me out to dinner tomorrow evening at a new seafood restaurant in Madison (The Hungry Fisherman). I suspect around this time tomorrow I’ll be digging into a dozen or so raw oysters. Mmmmm… You know, there’s just not a lot going on today. I’m sure the world is gearing up to witness my turning 33 tomorrow and all the hoopla that accompanies such an event. That, or everyone’s excitedly waiting for Temptation Island to premiere. One or the other. We watched Hollow Man last week, in fact we watched it twice – once with just Fred and I, once with his parents – and liked it a great deal. I have to ask, though, what the fuck was up with Elisabeth Shue’s hair? It was like she was channeling Meg Ryan’s ‘do or something, and IT WAS NOT FLATTERING. I hate that particular cut, and I haven’t a clue why anyone would run around with hair that looks like it’s been cut by someone wearing a blindfold and using dull scissors. You know, the last time I mentioned Meg Ryan’s hair, I found out later that day that she and Dennis Quaid were splitting up. I think Elisabeth Shue better hold on to her husband… Talking about Kevin Bacon – well, about his movie anyway – reminds me of the picture I once saw in People of Sean Penn doing his Kevin Bacon imitation, which consisted solely of using a piece of tape to go under his nose and stick to his cheeks at either side. He was a dead ringer for Kevin Bacon, I’m telling you. In fact, when I first saw the picture, I squinted and thought to myself "What’s wrong with Kevin Bacon?" That little pig nose of his sure is distinctive. One more day ’til my birthday! Woohoo!
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In February of 1996, I got my very first computer. It was a piece of crap, but it served it’s purpose. I’d never been online in any way, shape, or form, and I was DYING to try out the chat rooms I’d heard about. A few weeks after I got the computer (a dying 286, by the way), I managed to get signed onto a bbs provider, and shortly thereafter bumbled my way on to IRC’s Undernet. I’d been on IRC for three or four weeks, at about four to five hours a day, when I happened to wander into the channel !Fredsplace. The topic ("Bored? Lonely? Come on in and chat awhile. No pervs, please.") attracted me, as I’d run into WAY too many perverts in my short time on IRC. In #!Fredsplace, I ran across Fredster, who’d often announce to the channel as a whole that he was single and looking for a flirt volunteer. About the hundredth time Fred announced his search, I suggested that I might be interested in becoming his co-flirt. We flirted in the channel for a while, before everyone else present became nauseated and suggested we "take it private". When we did take it to a private channel, I found out a secret… Fred was a perfect gentleman. As we talked, we discovered that we had a lot in common: the books we read, the kind of music we listened to, the same kind of sense of humor. When it was time for Fred to leave, since he had to get up early the next day for work, he asked if I’d meet him on IRC the next day at lunch. And I did. In fact, from the first day we met, I met Fred on IRC every single day. After several days of talking on IRC, Fred began dropping realllllllly broad hints, suggesting that he might want to call me. Being the spaz I am, I put him off. Then one day, in a sneaky and underhanded move, Fred gave me his number and told me there was no pressure, but when I felt comfortable, I could call and listen to his voice. He coyly informed me that as he had to get a haircut, he wouldn’t be home ’til late that day… Well, honestly. Who was I to resist? Of course I called, and of course I liked his voice. And I even left a message, saying "You KNEW I wouldn’t be able to resist." That night, I gave him my phone number and told him he could maybe call and leave a message on my voicemail. He did, and I REALLY liked the sound of his voice. So that night, almost two weeks after we’d met on IRC, I let him call me for real. As I waited for the phone to ring, my heart was pounding, my palms were sweaty. But as soon as I picked up the phone and heard his voice, I was perfectly calm… And I knew I was in love. So was he, but naturally we danced around the "l" word for a few more days before we actually said it. The first time we said it (I said it first, thank you very much) was on IRC. Then I called him, and he said it first in person. Well, we were in love. However, there was an obstacle or two that prevented us from really getting together in person. The first was the fact that I lived in Rhode Island, and he lived in Alabama. A distance of 1200 or so miles. The second was that I was still legally married. My husband (soon to be ex) was in the Navy, and before his ship left right after Christmas, I’d told him I wanted a divorce. We’d agreed that when he got back to Rhode Island, we’d file for divorce. He was scheduled to get back around the middle of June. So not only was I still legally married, but I hadn’t even filed for divorce yet. And the third obstacle was that I wasn’t quite ready to meet Fred. I hadn’t planned on falling in love, and the fact that I was so crazy about him scared me to death. Topping that, I’d recently read an article in Playboy suggesting that if you were going to meet someone in person that you’d originally met online, you should have known them online for at least four months before meeting in person. Fred suggested meeting on Memorial Day (the end of May); I put him off. He suggested the weekend of July 4th; I put him off again. We finally settled on Labor Day weekend (September), which was a nice, safe SIX MONTHS away. As time passed, we fell more and more in love. Fred "unofficially" proposed to me. I "unofficially" accepted (yes, I’m aware of how incredibly dorky it all sounds). He managed to resist begging me to let him come to Rhode Island. Mondays were terrible for us; one or both of us invariably had serious cases of the blues, exacerbated by the fact that September was so far away. Finally, unable to deal with having to wait so long, I told Fred I wanted him to come to Rhode Island for the July 4th weekend. That made both of us happier for a while. Then the blues started hitting even worse. All either of us wanted was to be together. Fred was sending cards every day, with long, love-filled letters. He sent flowers, poems… he was so smart and funny that all I wanted was to finally be with him. At the beginning of May, I told him that I wanted to meet for Memorial Day weekend, which was a mere three weeks away. He was thrilled, and so was I. On May 10th, we broke up for about 18 hours. We got back together. As time drew closer to the fated weekend, I got more and more nervous. He kept saying "What if we hate each other?" I didn’t even consider the possibility, insisting that I had no doubt we’d "click." On the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, I drove 8 hours, he drove 12, and we met in Pennsylvania. We spent 2 1/2 days together, getting to know each other. Suffice it to say, we clicked. When we said goodbye Monday morning, I had to force myself not to cry, knowing that we weren’t going to see each other for another month and a half. I drove home, crying for the first hour or so. Of course we didn’t wait a month and a half. Two weeks later we met in Virginia, which was almost exactly halfway. We spent 1 1/2 days together, and then parted again. Fred flew to Rhode Island for the 4th of July weekend; I flew to Alabama for a long weekend. The original plan was this: I was going to file for divorce, and when the divorce was final, my daughter (who was 7 1/2 at the time) and I would move to Huntsville, and Fred and I would date and… whatever. That didn’t happen. Instead, shortly after he flew back home after the 4th of July weekend, Fred hemmed and hawed and hemmed and hawed, then finally asked me to move to Huntsville as soon as I could, and move in with him. I said yes. On August 12, 1996, my daughter and I left Rhode Island and made the two-day trip to Alabama. And we moved in with Fred. I filed for divorce about a month before we left, and had to fly back to RI in October to go to court. My parents had no idea whatsoever of Fred’s existence until sometime in November, when my daughter let it slip that "Fred made pancakes for breakfast. Fred. Our roommate.", and she didn’t know for about a year that Fred an d I were anything more than roommates (we had separate rooms, you see). I’m sure Fred had no idea how much his life was going to change; and it HAS changed. The reality of living with someone is nothing you can ever be totally prepared for. Quite often, I have to stop and tell myself that I am actually here, that it’s not just a dream. But I’m happy. If I make him a tenth as happy as he makes me… Well, that’s pretty damn happy.

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Yes, I know. Cheesy, innit? Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you need to go down some hard liquor to get the goo out of your mind, I completely understand. —–]]>

This is what they look like. What sad, sad lives y’all must have led, to never experience the delight of whoopie pies. You have my sympathy. Maybe when I go to Maine this summer, I’ll send y’all whoopie pies. If I remember, that is. So, I started watching Autumn in New York last night, Fred sitting near me while pretending to read his book. I don’t know how the last half of the movie’s going to be, but the first half hour or so was just so awful it made me squirm. I mean, I get that Winona Ryder was supposed to be playing young and quirky, but was she supposed to playing a 12 year-old? Gah. I turned to Fred and said "First of all, ONLY IN NEW YORK would people think hats like that are the height of fashion (Wino’s an ARTISTE and does things like create weird-looking hats dontchaknow), and second, I’m REALLY GLAD I’m married and won’t have to ever do that idiotic dating dance again." Not that I ever did THAT particular form of the dating dance, but y’all know what I mean. Plus, can I just say that Richard Gere’s character was under the impression that he was FAR more charming than he actually was. And the morning after he and Wino slept together, when he was giving his "I don’t want to get involved, I just want to fuck every now and then" speech, I snorted and said to Fred "Someone’s mighty impressed with himself, isn’t he?" Oh, and is it just me or does Winona Ryder always sound like she’s stoned to within an inch of her life? Just my opinion. I got a birthday card in the mail today from my parents, with money, which is always a good gift. I got it early this year because they’re going on a ten-day cruise to… uh, the Bahamas, maybe? I don’t know, I wasn’t paying that much attention, really. They’ll be seeing lots of islands, and they have to dress up for dinner, that’s all I remember. And they leave early tomorrow morning, spend the night in Florida somewhere, and board the ship sometime Saturday. Lookit that, I remembered more details than I’d thought. Which leads me to… 5 days ’til my birthday! WhoopWhoop! 🙂
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Skeleton Crew on audiotape (one from his father and one from my brother Tracy) and I got two copies of The Perfect Elizabeth (again, one from Fred’s Dad and one from my brother Tracy). All we can figure is that they happened to be shopping Amazon at the same time; but isn’t it odd that they both chose those particular items? Especially considering that my wish list was about three miles long. Anyway, I sent one copy of each back to Amazon today and requested a credit in the form of a gift certificate in return. Between the books I got for Christmas and the Amazon gift certificate I got from my parents for Christmas, AND the books Fred’s buying me for my birthday, my wish list is but a shadow of it’s former self. And I have a huge bookcase stuffed with books waiting patiently for me to read them. God, I love it when that happens! I think I mentioned back before Christmas that I had ordered a pair of Nike Air Prestos (actually, I think I mentioned it in my diet journal) online at Footaction. I was rather excited to find them online, because they were hard to find in the stores, and the Nike website was wiped clean out. And since I’m a dumbass, the harder it is to find something, the more desperately I want it. Anyway, I ordered the Air Prestos in size small (Air Prestos are sized differently from your average sneaker), which also happens to be the most popular size. Can you guess what happened? That’s right, when they arrived in my hot little hands a few days later, they were THE WRONG FUCKING SIZE. Although the size I ordered was small, and the size on the invoice was small, what I actually received was an extra small. AND when I checked online again, they were completely out of size small Air Prestos. Was I peeved? Was I ticked? Was I losing-my-mind furious? Oh, you betcha. In fact, I was so desperate to have the shoes that I tried to convince myself that I could wear an extra small. I didn’t get very far with that particular theory. I mean, I could get them on my feet, but I couldn’t, y’know, retain feeling in my feet for long. I ended up sending them back with a particularly nasty note, and began haunting eBay, searching searching searching for Air Prestos in a size small. A few days before Christmas, I found a pair, bid up to $100 on them – almost positive I’d be outbid in the last few hours of the auction, but figuring I had nothing to lose – and checked back several times a day until the auction ended. I got ’em for $81 plus $7 shipping. Go me! That’s only $3 more than they cost on the Nike site. Pretty good deal, I thought, and I think I was lucky in that it was Christmas week, and so not so many people were browsing eBay from work. Or so I’d like to think. That’s why I needed the money order at the post office and had to stand in the long, long line. The spud and I had to switch Jeeps with Fred because I’ve been begging him for months upon months to take my Jeep in to have the oil changed and the wheels rotated. Yes, I COULD take it in myself, but then what the hell would be the point of being married? Fred, being the man, is legally required to deal with all car-related crap and I, being the woman, am legally required to bitch at him until he does so. It works well for us. Anyway, today’s the day he’s taking my Jeep to the oil change place, so I don’t have to worry about the fact that my tires are slowly going very flat and that I’m about 3,000 miles past the time I needed an oil change. Isn’t he a good boy? Lastly, I must tell y’all about the annoying clerk at Bath and Body Works. The spud, I think I mentioned, got three Bath and Body Works gift certificates for Christmas. I also got a gift certificate, PLUS a reader – Carolisa in Atlanta; hi Carolisa! – emailed Friday to tell me that B&BW was having a really good sale on, well, Bath and Body stuff, so I figured it was time to hie my ass to the mall. Bath and Body Works is always and forever jam-packed with people, no matter what time you show up, so I had to fight my way through the crowds to find the items I wanted (and yes, the incredible sale was still going on; thanks Carolisa!). The spud wandered around and picked up some deodorant and a bottle of shower gel. The shower gel was on sale for something like 3 bottles for $11 (or something similar), but the spud only wanted the one bottle. The sales clerk rang up the spud’s items and saw that the total was almost $10 less than the gift certificate the spud held. Naturally, she tried to convince the spud to go back out into the store for more stuff. The spud shook her head and said she’d gotten all she wanted to get. The clerk pointed out that she could give the spud a merchandise credit for the difference "or you could just buy more stuff now so you won’t have to later." This was enough to confound the spud, who stared wordlessly at the sales clerk, and a wave of annoyance washed over me. I stepped forward, fixed the clerk with a gimlet eye, and said "She’ll take the merchandise credit." You see, the clerk hadn’t realized that the spud was with an adult who’d seen all the crappy selling-up tricks sales clerks have to offer and wasn’t impressed. In any case, she got her ass in gear and got going on that merchandise credit. Oh, and while I’m thanking readers, let me mention Sarah from Noo Yawk City, another Mainer living in exile, who read my Christmas list back in November, saw my craving for whoopie pies, and offered to send me some when she went home for Christmas. Since I’m only human, I OF COURSE said "Yes, please", and last week found a big package waiting for me at the post office. Inside said package were three HUGE whoopie pies, because Sarah is such a sweetheart she sent a whoopie pie for each member of the Bitchypoo family. Three seconds after my weigh-in on Monday, I dove face first into my whoopie pie. These things were SO big that by the time I’d eaten half of my whoopie pie, I was stuffed to the gills and had to save the rest for later. So Sarah, thank you! I have the most awesome readers, I really do.
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Robyn’s Resolutions for 2001

1. I will shave my legs once a week. I could say I’ll shave my legs every day, but we’re trying to stay realistic here, people. There’s no way in hell I’ll get out the shaving gel and the razors every day, but I can force myself to do it once a week. Besides, once a week is better than twice a year, yes? 2. I will grow my hair out, because my husband likes it when I have long hair. And when he bitches about all the foot-long hairs he finds everywhere, I will offer to shave my head, which will shut him up. 3. I will keep my purse in a more organized manner. So that I don’t end up at the grocery store unable to find the debit card for Fred’s checking account because I shoved it in amongst the litter littering the bottom of my purse, and therefore have to use my own debit card, but since it’s been months since I’ve used it, I’ll have forgotten the PIN number and end up having to use the Amex card we swore we weren’t going to use any longer. 4. I will keep to my downstairs-on-Wednesday, upstairs-on-Thursday cleaning schedule. Instead of only doing a thorough cleaning every other week, so that the house looks like a shitheap on the off weeks. 5. I will have my eyebrows waxed and plucked by a professional at least once. I will also have my moustache waxed on somewhat regular basis. I have never had any part of me waxed by anyone, so this should be an interesting experience. I do pluck between my brows so that I won’t sport the attractive "unibrow" look, but I have no idea how to tame the rest. I also have a mustache that rivals the lush thickness of Tom Selleck’s, and since I don’t particularly want Fred to think he’s kissing Tex while he’s kissing me, I should probably take care of it. Between the unshaved legs, the unibrow and the ‘stache, I certainly make myself sound attractive, don’t I? 6. I will get my ass in gear, reorganize my site, and move it all over to robynanderson.com. By Valentine’s Day. Nuff said. Okay, that’s it, those are my resolutions. Nothing too exciting, but I think I can stick to them. I’d add the usual weight-loss resolution to that list, but since I lost 15 pounds this month (bringing me to a total of 79 pounds, woohoo!) I don’t want to jinx myself. 6 shopping days left ’til I turn 33! (Just so you know 🙂
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too good, as a matter of fact – and after we ate until we were ready to barf, Fred, the spud and I took a short stroll down the street to settle our stomachs. Well, Fred claimed it was so we could settle our stomachs – the truth is that he just wanted to get the hell out of there for a while. Then we went back and opened presents (9 books from his parents! woohoo!), partook of Fred’s banana cream pie (or whatever the heck it’s called. It has a crust with toasted almonds, and it’s incredible), hung around for a while longer, and made our escape around 8:30 or so. Once home, we sent the spud off to her room and I sat in the living room and ate some of the spinach dip Fred’s stepsister forced us to bring home with us, while Fred wrapped my presents (talk about your last minute, eh?). Then we opened our presents to each other, which is our Christmas Eve tradition, piled the spud’s gifts around the tree, put her filled stocking on the counter, and toddled off to bed. See all those lovely, lovely bath fizzies? Between my sister and Fred, I’m set for life! Or at least a few weeks… The books I got from Fred and his parents. I also got two tapes of "Friends" episodes (including extra footage!), an Illuminations gift certificate, an LL Bean gift certificate (from my sister), and a pair of sunglasses from LL Bean. Oh, and six chocolate covered marshmallow santas! I made short work of those, believe you me. I also stole Fred’s Snickers, the one I bought for his stocking, but that’s neither here nor there. Though to be truthful, I was the Monster Who Ate Alabama for a period of about 24 hours… Since we got to bed so late Christmas Eve, I forwent exercise on Christmas Day, and was awakened at 7-fucking-30 by the phone. It was the ex who, when I groggily mumbled "Hello?" only said "Hi, Robyn!" and did not identify himself. Wondering why my brother was calling at such an early hour, I said "Uh, hi…", to which he replied "Hi" and nothing else. Finally, my mind cleared enough that I realized who it was, and I said "Oh, let me see if the spud is AWAKE YET." "Okay!" he said cheerfully. I pulled on a t-shirt and wandered through the house yelling for the spud, wondering how long it would take me to travel to Rhode Island, kill him, and drive back home. Specifically, would I be home in time for dinner? The spud wasn’t in her room, so I wandered to the top of the stairs and yelled "Spud!" Fred yelled "She’s on the phone!" and I muttered to myself that it was REALLY NICE THAT NO ONE BOTHERED TO TELL ME THAT. So I showered and settled down for a long winter’s nap – ie, I settled in to watch the spud open her presents, which is always an ordeal consisting of hours and hours of sitting and writing down what she got and from whom so she’ll know to whom to address the thank you cards. And this pile doesn’t include the big-ass printer from Fred and I which was hiding under a bag of discarded giftwrap. I won’t give y’all the whole list of exactly what she got, except to point out that she got THREE gift certificates to Bath and Body Works. Oh, and plenty of clothes. My parents, as usual, lost their minds and bought everything they thought the spud might conceivably like. This was a gift from my sister, who knows that my heart lies in Puffkinland. Miz Poo wanted to know just what in the freakin’ hell we thought we were doing. Fancypants howled and howled and chirruped and rubbed against us until we opened the back door to let him outside, and then we shut the door because DAMN it was cold out there, and of course he immediately wanted back in. We made him stay his fancy ass out there for ten or fifteen minutes before taking pity on him. The spud hauled her presents off to her room, and Fred and I settled back and got out the bag of catnip. From all over the house, cats came to lick, sniff, and roll in the kitty marijuana. I took a short movie wherein I sound like a total hick and which shows the kitties laying around in their drug daze, so go download it here. We filled a sock with catnip and tied a knot in it, and they all took turns licking it and rubbing all over it. The rest of the day was spent sitting around, reading, and talking. It was very relaxing, but I forgot to call my parents to wish them a Merry Christmas (oops!). I did, however, read all of Roses are Red in one day, so I did accomplish something. I haven’t updated ’til now ’cause I’m just not in a computer mood. I’m in a sit on my ass and read some of the books I got for Christmas mood, so I’m taking off until next Tuesday. Then, my regular updating schedule should resume. Of course, you could always join the notify list, couldn’t you? In any case, I hope the last week of 2000 is awesome for y’all, and if you’re going out partying on New Year’s Eve, I hope the drinks are plentiful (don’t drive, though!), and the men and women are hot. See you "next year"!]]>

The Cell last night, and I was pretty damn sure that I was going to have nightmares about that boogie-man at the beginning of the movie. And then I saw Vincent D’Onofrio and thought surely I’d have nightmares about him, especially when I saw the whole suspending-himself thing. Then I thought surely I will have nightmares about that monstrous thing he turned into in his mind. But do you know what I had nightmares about? I had a nightmare that, first of all, Elizabeth lived in New York City and wanted to meet, and I got lost in the midst of a very scary Central Park. And then I had a nightmare that Fred and I met Beth (or Xeney, as we refer to her around here) and they sat there and bonded as they made fun of me the entire time. And THEN I dreamed that I was working at a really crappy Target. I practically woke up screaming, I tell you. So anyway, the spud had no school today, which she was rather thrilled about, and I had nothing pressing left to do, so I didn’t leave the house at all today. It was pretty nice to just sit and read for a couple of hours, then leisurely wrap a few presents whilst watching my soap opera, and then have lunch. I know it’s not like I lead a particularly hectic life, but recently I’ve been doing a lot of running around, getting ready for Christmas, and I’m glad to have it done. I’ll be even gladder the day after Christmas when we rip that damn Christmas tree down. The lower branches are hanging almost to the ground because certain evil (but very cute) kitties like to try to LAY on the lowest branches, and even the strongest branch can only take so much from the likes of a slightly portly Miz Poo. It will also be nice to not have that huge pile of presents for the spud laying in a corner of my room, and have them instead be strewn all over her room.]]>

diet journal) and purchased only a smiley-face pencil and some scissors. The word is that we’re going to get some serious accumulation of snow tonight. Well, I guess the exact word was "serious accumulation possible", but that’s coming from Dan Satterfield, so it’s good as gold. Like it’s not bad enough that the kids get 2 1/2 weeks off from school, they need a snow day thrown in there too? I sure whine about the weather a lot, don’t I? Let me warn y’all now, there are only 20 shopping days ’til my 33rd birthday! You have been warned… Oh! Speaking of my birthday, we’ll be going to see (the musical) Jeckyll and Hyde in Huntsville the Friday after my birthday. We saw the ad for it on TV last night, and I thought Fred was going to wet his pants, he got so excited. Rather than sit down and eat dinner with us, he ran downstairs and got tickets for us and the spud. The best part is that it’s in the front row, so that’ll be cool. Don’t forget now, 20 days!]]>