The Dump

I'm really pushing it -- it's nearly noon and I have not yet acquired my Sunday NYT. There are 2 places in town to get it and I'm basically looking at missing out not only on a crossword but the acrostic. I am living dangerously.

So the dump was awesome. Along with the regular household hazardous waste, Ray loaded a 55-gallon drum that still had a little diesel sloshing around the bottom. He inherited a lot of old boat thingies when he bought his grandparents' house, and since neither of us are boat people, nor do either of us drive diesel, he decided to load one of the two drums up for disposal. He was a little nervous that the waste people would not want it.

But they did. The guys at the dump were superexcited, even moreso when they learned there was a quart of 20-year-old diesel in the bottom (even though gas isn't $4/gal anymore)

Last night we also hit the Harbor Art Guild gallery (yes, the HAG) for its grand opening. Really nice. We ate dinner at Stiffy's and I had one Manhattan that basically got me a little drunk. There was a precious little Yorkie there that was not at all yippie, and a group of regulars having conversation bawdy enough to make Ray uncomfortable. (Sample conversation: Man on cell with wife: "Where are you? ... Having fun dancing? What? ... Well, I don't care when you come home but you'd better be home when you (get it?)!")

We also saw Driftwood's "Nunsensations: The Nuns hit Vegas" or something. Buzzkill accomplished. It turned out that the show was also maybe a little too raunchy for Ray's taste, especially because his favorite grocery bagger was in the audience (she's youngish and a little bit, uh, delayed). I think it's patronizing to withhold raunchy jokes from any portion of the populace except kids whom you'd have to explain it to. Let them learn about it from their peers, on the streets, in completely unhelpful, scary and fact-free ways, just like I did. But Nunsense is not really that raunchy (there was a near-reference to something that starts with the word "blow" and a loudly proclaimed "BULLS--T!" from a puppet). What was actually offensive was a joke about "Mexifornia" and one about an outsourced (to Pakistan) catholic help line: "I said I was suicidal and he asked if I knew how to drive a truck." Bah dum-DUMB. The show has been selling out -- to the point that people are sitting in the aisles! I guess it is for the cast, who danced and sang their little hearts out and had better material in last year's "Mashuggah-nuns." Seriously, that is what it is called. And yes, it was completely meshuga.

In other news, there is elk steak defrosting on the counter for dinner. Is it tender enough for stroganoff? I really need to google up on cooking game meat. Now that the depression is a-coming, I may be forced to hunt to survive. And between myself and Ray, I believe that the Nunsense/Stiffy's (yes, that's the name of the bar, what to expect, huh?) incident, I think Ray is altogether too innocent to kill an animal like a deer or elk. But me? I'd blow its brains out and rub blood on my face while blathering crude words of Anglo-Saxon origin, apparently. I'm just that feral.