Off to England she goes Mrs. Robot left for England last night to visit her pal over there and look at said pal's new baby. At the airport, she had to check everything except her wallet and passport - but luckily they give her a very fashionable Ziploc bag to carry it all in. Apparently, all the stress is at the check-in area before security where people who have lived in a cave for the past week realize that they can't carry, well, almost anything onboard.
The lady at the counter checked her in and then asked if she wanted to leave a number of a family member just in case. Next of kin. The counter lady's parting words were "Good luck!" followed by a thumbs-up. Good luck? Thumbs up?
The actual security gate part was fairly quick she reported since no one had anything unusual for them to scan. In the terminal, everyone was just sitting there with their sad little Ziploc bags.
My question: What will they do with all those empty overhead bins? You could fit little people in them. Or basset hounds. Basset Hounds on a plane - that would be a good movie. (there'd be a lot of howling)
10:58am She just called and said all is well. Except that it's raining. Surprise.
Mrs. Robot gone = Me discombobulated As usual, when Mrs. Robot is gone, it takes me a few days to get in to the swing of living solo again. Expect the next few days to feature me leaving the apartment without cell phones, pants, socks, and/or shirts on the bottom and pants on the top.
Lazy Saturday (and Sunday) The weather gods have been smiling on NYC these past few days. The past few days have been straight-up gorgeous. Sunny. Breezy. Cool at night. Saturday we spent the afternoon in the park doing not much of anything. It was perfect.
50mm I apparently can't get enough of that shallow depth of field. My old 50mm Nikon lens is going through a bit of a re-birth since when it's mounted on a digital camera it suddenly becomes a 75mm-ish lens. Viva new uses!
Ricky Bobby We saw that new Will Ferrell movie this past weekend. I'll write a two sentence review, but here are a few non-two-sentence observations.
1. This could be the theatre's issue, but the movie looked fairly crappy whenever they weren't on the track. Everything else look low-saturated and dull. Also, they kept missing foucs. Often. We know one of the camera operator guys on this film, so we'll ask him what was up with that.
3. Ricky Bobby's arch-rival was a Formula One driver who came to conquer NASCAR. He was French. And gay. It was funny. Barely. But I kept running it through my ex-brother-in-law filter. My ex-brother-in-law... he was... how do I say this diplomatically? Simple? Ignoramious? Hickish?
Right. Whenever the movie played the france is gay card, I kept thinking, "I know people who honestly believe this - un-ironically". My ex-brother-in-law for example. The one with the stupid ass truck that is the size of our apartment thats been lowered so he can't go over speedbumps without scraping the bottom. Maybe I am not giving people enough credit. (What am I talking about. People are idiots.)
Vacation We go on our annual family beach vacation very very soon. I suspect that I won't be toting bottles of wine and champagne this time. That will suck. Damn haters of freedom.
911 Mrs. Robot and I had a running joke the other day where we imagined GWB in various tight spots and he would always get out of them by bringing up 9-11. That 9-11 shit is golden.
