Pink Ladies, Blue Balls, and Purple Booze

My fortune cookie from dinner tonight:

Keep your eyes open, and take advantage of the unexpected.

Now I don't feel so bad about learning the horrible secret of Soylent Green.

Wait. No. Not Soylent Green. I meant Lazy Town. Lazy Town is an Icelandic kids show: three live action people, a city filled with puppets, and a subtle-as-a-kick-to-the-balls message about how you should be active and avoid a sedentary lifestyle.

Anywho, it turns out that I was reading up on the actors on the show, and there's only one American. Watching the show, you'd expect her to be a girl of eight, the documented age of her character on the series, but her remarkably creepy IMDb bio reveals the shocking truth: she's not eight, she's just short. She's short, and she's sixteen.

What the hell? My back-of-the-envelope calculations tell me that the youngest she's been while on the series is thirteen, and that's still eons away from being eight. Also, I guess it helps to have your dad write your biography.

Friday was a crazy day, a dias loco, if I spoke Spanish. I've spent the last ten years avoiding bowling alleys, hot tubs, and gay bars, and six or so years staying away from adult video stores, and yet I found myself at all four of those locations inside of a four-hour period.

All I can say is that they know how to make a great rum and Coke in Parma.

Tonight was bottling of the IPA and something I've never even heard of before: making mead. Prithee, soon we shall sup upon the nectar of Bacchus. Yea, verily.