Becky and I watched Syriana last night. Fat George Clooney was pretty great; I wonder how he felt about being un-hot after the torture/beating scene where he's lying on the floor, fat, covered in blood and his big scruffy beard.
All I know for sure is that Netflix is the coolest, although I do feel bad about the latest nail being driven into the coffin of local video shops.
Pesto and the cat next door have a morning ritual now: they run up to the sliding glass door and touch noses through it. The cat rolls around on its back batting at the air. Pesto gets bored and goes to see what we're up to (making coffee, watching the Today show). The cat feels sad and lonely. Sorry, the cat.
9.27.2006
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