Brain Stew.

What a busy weekend.

Saturday I slept in a little, 9:30. Once I was out of bed I found that Yvette and the girls had made some pancakes. Unfortunately, I can’t really eat that… damn diabetes, always ruining things. Instead whipped up some chorizo egg tacos. Damn tasty. I love the simplicity of chorizo and egg. Spicy greasy gold.

I had a little yard work I needed to knock out. That last heavy rain left a messy bunch of run-off. My French drain seems to be working but just not well enough to handle that volume of water so quickly. I should probably install another one. Pisses me off.

I cleaned up and ran some Saturday errands. I was hell bent on finding a university hat for a decent price. The bookstore pricing… ridiculous. You would think that they had gold embroidery. I had no luck.

Time for a little tailgating.

Pink Out the Concho Valley

It was Breast Cancer Awareness Month, so we all showed our support by wearing some pink. They were giving out pink shirts too—which I gladly grabbed. I needed another one anyway, and this time they were free.

I ran into a few friends, Art in particular. He even offered me a drink. That man had a cooler with Rumple Minze ready to go. I hate the stuff, but how could I refuse? The man came to our wedding, for fuck’s sake. Drinking bad liquor together is just part of the friendship contract. It’s always a great pleasure to see him—he’s been a good friend for over 20 years.

Most of the food was solid. We found some ridiculously good cheesy potato salad right off the bat. Also, ribs. Always the ribs. I later found some fantastic buffalo chicken cheese dip. The inside food offerings, though—not so much. I guess when they handed off responsibility for the event, the good food didn’t transfer over with it.

The girls all left early. I think they’d been around each other a little too much that day, and the irritation showed—mothers and daughters dynamics kind of thing. Plus, it was a bit hot, and Yvette needed to get ready for the main event later in the day.

We had a very cultured date night. Yvette’s boss gave us tickets to attend a special symphony concert. Pianist-focused.

I had a hard time figuring out what to wear. I rarely dress up, and when I do, I tend to go all out—full suit and all. Usually for big events like weddings and such. Maybe I need to invest in some middle-ground clothing. Church clothing.

The concert was beautiful—just delightful. We had great seats and, thankfully, no one sitting right next to us. The talent of the two piano players was astonishing. For the encore, they both played on the same piano, side by side, even crossing arms. I was wowed by the spectacle.

We left at intermission, not realizing it was just intermission. Everyone was getting up. I guess for refreshments and the potty. We left out the side door. Quietly. Oh well—we saw the part of the show we came for.

Afterward, we headed out to the lake for some pizza. The place had only been open for three months. We ordered the buffalo chicken pizza and both agreed—it was fantastic. The atmosphere was stellar. A crisp October night, next to the love of my life, eating pizza by the lake. That’s the dream.

Sunday, Sunday.
How you sneak up so quietly and quickly.
Bastard day. The bane of the week.
The polite reminder that Monday is lurking around the corner.

We went over to the in-laws’ and had an exceptionally fine lunch of pulled pork. The others made sandwiches or stuffed potatoes. Bloody carbs. I couldn’t indulge, thanks to my sugar levels being higher than I’d like. Once again, damn the diabetes.

After stuffing myself (with what I could eat), I went home to make some Halloween decorations. I had a mop stick, a pumpkin pail, a witch hat, and some black table liner. Dollar store creativity. All I needed was my drill and a hot glue gun to begin the assembly. It was surprisingly fun getting crafty, and I think the little pumpkin pail witches turned out pretty good—if I do say so myself.

The rest of Sunday was spent running all over town with Yvette, knocking out a bunch of errands before the weekend tapped out. One mission: find a superhero shirt for Teegan. Something for school. You would think that an easy task, but it took two stops.

That evening, we ate, and Teegan and I caught up on our show, Peacemaker.

All in all, it was a nice weekend that went by way too fast. Over in a blink, as usual.

My coworkers and I entered the week expecting it to be loud with our boss back from vacation. Little did we know, that wasn’t going to be the case. His mother-in-law took a turn for the worse, and he was in and out of the office all week. That meant another week of quiet vibes.

My workload was steady—if not a little frantic at times. My afternoons were especially swamped. Everything seemed to happen right after everyone else got back from lunch. That’s the only downside of taking lunch at 1 in the afternoon—when I get back at 2, I must rush to get things done. Friday afternoon I was so busy I utterly wiped myself out. I was in the office a total of maybe 30 min.

On that note, I got an email from the “Staff Senate Executive Board”, who I never voted for, saying I had missed too many meetings. It’s called having a job that’s feast or famine. Some of these jobs across campus all seem to have way more downtime than we do over in Facilities. Especially these days.

The email pissed me off, honestly. I didn’t even feel like dignifying it with a response.

Fuck them. I even like these people, and I like being on the senate, but they need to work on tone.

The first meeting I missed was during move-in week—I was busy putting out fires. A student moves into the dorm, plumbing’s not up to the parents’ bloated expectations, and suddenly I’m running for parts. Am I supposed to say, “Sorry, can’t help you right now—I have a Staff Senate meeting”? Fuck no.

The second missed meeting, I was the only one in the office. Should I have just locked the door and closed the office? That wouldn’t raise any eyebrows at all. Ridiculous.

And apparently, I was supposed to notify the others in advance that I wouldn’t be attending. News to me. This is my third term, and I’ve never had to do that before. But sure—cheers to this new board for being super by-the-book. I’m sure their newfound commitment to procedure will change everything on campus.

Maybe I’m jaded, but no one really listens to the Staff Senate anyway. It’s all for nothing. A glorified suggestion box that nobody ever opens. I feel like each year that I’ve been on it, it has become less and less about the staff and more and more about the image of the people serving. I fear it’s becoming a bullshit organization with people patting themselves on the back.

I had great expectations for making a difference and now it doesn’t even get me out of the office.

Maybe I should run for an “executive” position.

Anyways.. Sorry for the soap opera. Rant over. I was pissed at the email, Friday afternoon was hell and it’s been a week.

Happy fucking Friday!!

Horror Season 2025

Cast a Deadly Spell

In the ’80s and ’90s, HBO was the premium cable network. HBO was the bomb. Cast a Deadly Spell, an HBO original, epitomizes the term “forgotten gem” with its fantastic concept. This weird horror-comedy is a sweet tribute to both the horror and detective genres—a noir comedy horror filled to the brim with Lovecraft references. It holds an incredibly special place in my heart.

Released just a couple of months after my tenth birthday, I was definitely not the intended audience for such a film. But my parents—or more specifically, my father—had no problem letting me watch some good ol’ horror movies. You might say that he had a pretty relaxed approach to what was “age appropriate.” He was even more excited about this one because the story is loosely based on the classic literature of H.P. Lovecraft. Eldritch horrors. Cosmic dread. The Necronomicon. Hell, the main protagonist even shares Lovecraft’s name. Of course this movie was right up my dad’s alley.

The cast is exceptional: the late Fred Ward, David Warner, Clancy Brown, and Julianne Moore. Ward, already a favorite of mine thanks to Tremors (1990), plays the lead. I recognized Warner from my favorite Star Trek movie, and I liked Brown for his role as the Kurgan in Highlander.

The movie is very much a hybrid of genres—equal parts horror, comedy, and film noir. Set in 1948 Los Angeles, magic and mystical creatures are part of everyday life. It follows private detective Lovecraft (Ward), who refuses to use magic, Naturally, he gets hired by a shady millionaire (Warner) to track down a rare book—yeah, that one. The Necronomicon. It’s missing, he needs it for a “special occasion,” and the clock is ticking.

Spoiler: that “special occasion” involves summoning the Old Gods in exchange for unlimited power. Because of course it does. Isn’t that what all rare books are used for?

Watching the film today, it still holds up well. The special effects are all practical—thank God. It was released before CGI became a thing, and with its modest budget, CGI wouldn’t have been an option anyway. The monsters look great, the gore is kept minimal but effective.

There’s one scene I’ll never forget. It terrified me as a kid: death by paper cuts. A spell is cast on a short-lived character who becomes engulfed in swirling sheets of paper, each slice drawing blood until he bleeds out. Death by a thousand paper cuts. It scared the hell out of me. As a ten-year-old boy who knew how bad a single paper cut could hurt, I could definitely relate to that man’s pain and fear.

That scene is still brutally beautiful to this day.

This movie remains entertaining as hell. I loved everything about it then, and I still do now. It has everything: monsters, detectives, magic, noir one-liners. It’s easily one of the best Lovecraftian films out there. Sadly, mostly forgotten.