New camera!

My Bubs bought me the most awesomest gift ever. A Canon EOS Rebel 15 megapixel digital SLR camera -- for those of you who aren't dropping your jaw -- it's just a fancy camera.. to me.. it's a wish fulfillment -- I've wanted one of these forever. Well, it didn't start there -- I remember drooling over the Canon EOS Rebel SLR pre-digital era -- and then the 3 megapixel, then the 5 and so on. When it became this cool (15), I just stopped dreaming about it knowing that we needed to spend our money on practical items. You know, paying the pool guy and um, pizza, oh and the gigantor mortgage. But my Bubs thought different now that his credit is good and he qualified for a no interest til July Best Buy card.

Anyhoo -- the pic here is an example of more to come. Huzzah! I love you Bubs!!

HPATHBP

No - the title of this is not part of a blood test. It refers to one of the series of books I so love about a little wizard with a lightening scar on his forehead who is destined to eliminate the most terrible dark wizard of all time. Yes - that's the one. Aaron and I went to see the new HP movie in the theater last week and were left feeling like the kid who only got socks for Christmas. As the lights came up, we seriously looked at each other and just shrugged.

So like all HP fans, I will list out my grievances in my blog and fully reveal my nerdiness about this series -- (may I say before I begin, I never once went to band camp, and my husband started a sentence today with "Back when I was in SCA.." -- so I think my nerdom is quite eclipsed by others)
1. No Dumbledore funeral. No emphasis on how if he's alive, everything will be fine. Nothing about how Dumbledore is the only wizard Voldemort ever feared. Oh yeah, the old guy, he's dead, let's all raise our lit wands and magically, the dark mark will disappear! Gimme a break.

2. Don't get me wrong, I love Hermione. I love Emma Watson who plays Hermione. But come on. The girl's acting skills are equivalent to a Dawson's Creek extra. Her performance reminded me of the sighing-looking-into-space-teen-angst of those oh so popular tween vampire movies with Cedric Diggory. Sorry Herms.

3. Um horcruxes? What's that? I'm not sure because they never effing go into it and the importance of them. The cup? The ring? The snake? Nothing?

4. Not that Fleur Delacoeur and Bill's romance is a big deal and is key to plot, but I'm really wondering why it wasn't even mentioned as it's at their wedding that things go nuts in the next book. Or about Bill getting deformed?

5. Where the eff was the battle for Hogwarts? Where was all of the desolation or doom? The near misses because of the Lucky potion? I knew it was bad when Harry drank all of it instead of sipping it the first time.

6. Ginny and Harry? I don't get it from these movies. He doesn't even break up with her. What are they, the dream team now?

7. Not enough information. I know at the end of the book Harry is completely bewildered, but still knows it's the horcruxes and knows that death is inevitable for him. Dumbledore is dead. I wanted to scream that at him at the end of the movie. Dumbledore is dead! And Snape killed him you dumbass!!

8. Hey! Guess what? Did you know that deatheaters burn down the Burrow? No? Me neither. Did you know that Hermione bitches out Lavender? Me neither.

9. How many times do we need to show Draco pulling off the cloth cover of the cabinet? Like 8 times maybe?

10. My real gripe is that it's not the book verbatim -- and that is all.

All I have to say to these scriptwriter is.. Expelliarmus! Yes. Nerd. I know.

Am I the only one...

...who wishes Mad Men was on all the time? Everyday, all day? I just luuuurve it. What does this say about my ideas of feminism, systematic oppression of minorities and chauvinism?

Absolutely nothing. It's an effing good show. And frankly, it's a testament to how much reality TV has made me hope and wish for something like this show. Seriously, I wonder whether it's actually not a good show at all, but with my options being limited to conjured "real" drama, my tastes have wildly decreased to just wanting to watch a show that doesn't remind me of how I hate people.

Top 10 reasons Mad Men rules all:

10. The guy's name is Don Draper. Seriously, the best name since Clark Kent. Best part is that it's not his real name. He's playing the part of the guy with the cool name, which it makes it extra crazy cool.
9. Smoking is bad for you, but still cool. The warnings are more in line with not swimming 30 minutes after you eat than with "you're gonna die! you're gonna die!" (Although I like how the writers always have someone waking up and hacking up a lung, nice foreshadowing guys)
8. Bartenders know drinks. I know it's a show and it's not like they're going to write in "Phil" the new midwestern bartender who's still learning his Singapore Sling from his Hurricane. It's nice that the cocktail was just beginning to really catch on and none of the stupid frat-boy date rapist drinks were popular. Come on, when was the last time you ordered an "Old Fashioned" and the bartender didn't go thumbing through the "The Idiot's Guide to mixing drinks". Whereas you ask for a 'Buttery Nipple" and he asks "Hairy or Plucked?"
7. The show is about character development, not plot. Which is like a dream come true. What? Get to know the characters and not follow them through some predictable cliched storyline? Never. For those of us that love movies like Before Sunrise, this is a very very good thing.
6. I love how utterly hopeless and triumphant Betty is. She's crazy, but not I'm gonna drown my kids crazy, she just epitomizes and gives life to the bored housewife that really wants to be found interesting but has nothing to offer but her looks and 90-minute modeling career.
5. Duuuude. Peggy. She's either going to mow people down with a machine gun one of these days, spin her head a la Linda Blair Exorcist or get promoted over everyone. She's business. Monster trapped in the body of a girl scout cookie trapped in the mind of Lee Iococa with a side of Heather Chandler. Can't wait to find out what she's about.
4. Joan, AKA, Big Boobs McGee -- personification of what a woman's ideal used to be -- What? You can't see her ribs through her lycra spandex tank! What a fatty! I just love that a full figured woman is worshipped and not labeled "full figured". Take that Kate Moss!
3. Drinking, smoking and working all at the same time did not mean you were a stripper, prostitute, pimp, drug dealer or homeless window washer. Martinis? 10AM? Board Meeting at 10:15? Yes please, oh and here let me light that for you..
2. No one famous has made a cameo -- I like the anonymous appeal of the cast. There is no "On the next Mad Men, a very special episode with guest star George Clooney as you've never seen him before..."
1. It's not effing reality TV. There are real writers, real dialogue, real actors and no 15 minutes of fame. Yay AMC.

What to Expect..

So I bought and read the "What to Expect Before You're Expecting" and I've got an announcement I think everyone needs to hear who has not read this book. You should not smoke pot while you are pregnant, or even while you're trying to conceive. How is it possible that millions of women have gone through their pregnancies without ever reading this book?
Seriously. Dude. Duuuude.

What's really great is that the book doesn't ever say "Effing stop smoking pot, you crack whore!" -- It tries to passively convince the reader that smoking pot isn't at all healthy for you or your baby, but never quite drives the point home like I would have expected. I'm waiting for the you shouldn't throw yourself down a flight of stairs when you're pregnant chapter.

For my next blog: "Common sense and you - stop being a dillhole"

Hand building and wheel

On Saturday, I'm going to my first sculpting class since highschool. I'm super excited because I remember really enjoying it when I was a teenager, but not being able to afford it in college. I went to Armadillo Clay today and it's this nifty shop on East 4th that made me want to be a starving artist. I wouldn't let myself walk around because I knew I would end up with a bunch of stuff I wouldn't know how to use and end up killing my budget. But at some point I will go back just to wander through. I love bottles of color, I'm just not very good at making them look like something realistic. When I'm painting anyway. So hopefully the ceramicist inside me will take over, maybe this is what I'm supposed to be doing. You know, throwing pots and getting tired of all the "Ghost" references people throw at me. You never know, I might be the next... um... Michaelangelo? Rodin? I guess sculptors only get famous once they are really, really dead. I think painters get famous right after they die -- look at Jean Michele Basquiat right? He died and bam! Seriously, four years after his death, his work was displayed at the Whitney and he was suddenly renowned for his neo-expressionist graffitti art. Really? Yup. 10 years after his death one of his paintings sold for 3 million dollars. And then Metallica man Lars Ulrich beat it in 2002 by buying one for over 5 million. Hmm, I think to be true artist's artist you have to die of something accidentally, like an overdose, or a family member losing control or in some kind of transatlantic wreck. I think only one of those would apply to me. But be forewarned family! If I rule at pottery, I'm changing my will to have all my assets and future earnings as Sculptor Laureate bestowed to stem cell research IF I am killed by a family member. So don't get any ideas!

Okay, so I'm not.

Pregnant that is. And I'm fine with that. There was a 1-2% chance anyway and if you know me, you know I've never fallen into that percentage ever.

I just wish I had an easy explanation for why I've been so damn exhausted for the past week. It's exhausting being exhausted. And for hypochondriacs like me, the worst possible thing is not knowing why you're sick.

I'm pretty burnt out from work as you could probably tell from my last blog, but it has never made me physically ill before. I must be allergic to teleconferences. There goes my promotion..

I'm off for a 90 minute massage tonight. The peeps at Massage Envy called me and said "um, Mrs. Camp? You have 5 pre-paid hour massages, would you like to use one?"

I'm just not taking care of myself. You know I haven't had a real pedicure (ie, not me scraping my feet in my mini tub) since I got married? WTF? Apparently, after you get married your toes can get as gnarly and cuticley as ever without any consequences. It's not that I don't like pedicures, I do. But I really liked this chic up on Anderson Mill, her name was Lisa and she was awesome. So I don't wanna have to do my research to find a good pedicurist who doesn't talk shit about me in Vietnamese while she's shaving my callouses. Anyone got suggestions for South Austin manipedi?

I can't wait for my massage. I'm so tense that parts I never thought could get tense are tense. Like my chest..That's right. My boobs are tense. What? TMI? Okay, fine. Not really my boobs, whatever muscle is under my boobs and to the side of them which is not armpit fat is tense.

Oh! I'm gonna be late! Gotta go!

Burnout Baby

Dude. I am so done with everything. I need a vacay so bad I sometimes find myself longing to be cramped up in a smelly airplane. Seriously.

What's weird is I'm not even cooking or baking. And I always want to cook or bake. I'm not depressed or anything because when I'm depressed I don't wear makeup and I want to lay around all day. I'm not averse to doing something, I'm just not in the mood to be motivated to do something. Even write this blog.

As my colleagues in the UK say, I need a holiday.