In the House Like a Pigeon from Hell

So, I'm back from all the holiday madness.



And no, I don't really know what the title of this blog entry means, other than it's taken from the video I've decided to play today and I kinda liked it. It would have been more appropriate last month, when there was an entire family of Pigeons from Hell living in my crawlspace, but I threw some money at that problem and it went away. Now, it's just sort of like I'm back on my blog, and therefore "in the house." Because yo, I'm street like that. Heh.

So, how was your holiday? It seems to be the question de rigeur around this time of year, as soon as it's too late to ask, "So, what are your plans for the holidays?"

My holidays, in case you're wondering, were good. The night before I travelled home, a friend and I saw Sweeney Todd together. Oh. My. God. Brilliant! Go see it. It's soooooo good. It's a little too early to start talking Oscar, but I really hope that Helena Bonham Carter has a shot at Best Actress. No, she doesn't have Angela Lansbury's pipes -- but she acts the hell out of this movie ... and yes, Tim Burton was born to direct it.

The next afternoon, I boarded my flight. Five days in Kansas in a house that contained myself, my sister, her husband, her four children (aged 5-10), and my two parents. I can feel your eyes rolling from here, but it was really okay. Not that I wasn't looking forward to my quiet little house by the time I was scheduled to return.

When I did arrive home, I didn't stay for long. The next day, I drove out to the beach. I enjoyed a five hour brunch with the Gorgeous Boys from Philly (a little lobster quiche, a little filet mignon, a lot of mimosas, and a lot of red wine), and convinced one of the adoptive lesbian moms to see Sweeney Todd with me. Yes, I saw it twice; it's that good. She was hestitant because she heard it was bloody. I didn't deny this, but persuaded her that it's brilliant nonetheless, and that in her heavily mimosa'd state, would enjoy it as much as it was possible for her to do so. So, we saw it together. She saw about two thirds of it, and shielded her eyes frequently. We agreed that the clear Oscar winner of the film should be the Sound Editors, since the gurgling and spurting that accompanied each and every slit throat was just as disgusting as the sight of the brilliant arterial spray.

I spent New Year's Eve with some relatively new friends I've made this year. There was a lovely dinner for 15 followed by dessert two doors down. At five minutes to midnight, we turned on Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve and tried to figure out why Ryan Seacrest felt the need to wear such large earphones. We agreed that he looked like Princess Leia, and then the countdown started. We shouted, "Happy New Year!" and hugged and kissed and five minutes later, the party started to break up. I drove back to the adoptive lesbian moms' at 12:30, and was surprised to find them at home; they had decided to forgo the Big Lesbian Dance and ring in the new year in their pajamas instead.

On New Year's Day, the moms and I sat watching candidates from both parties wooing voters in Iowa on CNN. It was actually refreshing to see speech after speech with absolutely no pundits jumping in and interpreting anything for you. "It should always be like this," one adoptive lesbian mom said, and I had to agree.

And speaking of Iowa -- those caucuses are tonight. I have La Vie en Rose sitting at home in the red Netflix envelope, and yet something tells me I'm going to spend my entire evening listening to (hot) Keith Olbermann giving me random and meaningless updates on the goings-on in Iowa every five minutes. This is the one day every four years that I wish I was a citizen of the state of Iowa. The more I learn about the caucuses, it totally sounds like something I would enjoy, particularly the way the Democrats do it. On the other hand, I can see why some people, who might otherwise be inclined to vote in a traditional primary, would avoid the experience altogether. But I'm a total political nerd, and I think it sounds really fun.

Not much else to say, really. It's odd and counterintuitive that extended periods of not blogging make it seem as though one has less and less to say. When I'm in the habit of throwing up my random feelings about this or that on a fairly regular basis, I seem to be full of ideas and opinions, but when I unplug for a week or more, the thought bubble that reads, "I'll blog about this tomorrow" goes away, and it's difficult to get it back sometimes.

But do not fear (because I know that my absence is freaky scary) -- tomorrow, we'll always have Iowa.