shaken & stirred

welcome to my martini glass


I hate it when I get all the way through an entry and it goes Poof!

Oh well. Now, for the much less witty version.

Yesterday was a rough day, though a successful one, at work. (We kicked off our s-word campaign with lots of reporters around.) Too exhausted, but we decided to go out to dinner to the nice Italian place downtown we'd never been to but had heard lots about. The food was very good, if very expensive, and the atmosphere was lovely. (Eggrolls with spicy meats in them, nice scallops with artichoke fritters, yum.) And then, at the end of the meal, something happened to make it just perfect. Christopher had written a note to send back to the kitchen and calls over this guy who's casing the joint in a way that suggests he works there. It turns out he's the entertainment, oops. The guy's like Conan O'Brien meets Dracula and is there to do sleight of hand. Christopher divulges the fact that I'm a magic buff, if too inept to do it myself. Thus began the weird dance that always happens when tableside magicians find out I may know how their tricks are done. They take it as a challenge, to do the tricks without me seeing them pull them off while knowing what to look for. What they don't realize is this: I may know how the tricks are done, but while I'm watching I forget completely. It's a better show that way, a better story with the disbelief hanging in the air so I suspend.

Conan's little brother who was bitten by a vampire was pretty good, and his hands were faster than my eyes. We got a three of clubs with our names written on it in marker and a nice bit of magic.

Penn and Teller have a new show, btw, which I haven't even seen yet though I guess I'll stay up and watch tonight's episode. Teller said the most interesting thing on this show about dangerous magic I watched the other night (which was not that great, and focused almost exclusively on the magic bullet). He said that it would be unethical for any magician to ever perform a trick that put him in real danger. (Unfortunately, the "he" here isn't an old-fashioned grammatical tick; there still aren't that many female magicians.) Think about it; he's right, of course.

And speaking of questionable ethics, Hank Steuver has a wonderful piece on ye old hot tubs on reality shows and in real life that is a must read. It's inspired by, if not confined to, Joe Millionaire.

Poet wars are better.

There's all sorts of Glove Monster mayhem about to happen on the television machine. Maybe I should write an essay about it and send it to the Texas Mercury... Hmmm.

Had a nice chat with Gavin via Graham Bell's contraption last night, and it seems I have my first question for the advice column and it's a good one. This means you won't be the first person to send a question anymore, so what's stopping you? C'mon, send in a question, you wuss.

Sometimes berating works. I berate because I love.

I am so glad it's the weekend. All sorts of prayers for me not to come down with Strep throat even though my tonsils are scratchy and to get boxes somewhat empty and office set up to workable again and George the Dog home, home, home like Dorothy.

Have a good day.


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