Touch You Last

Sarah and her father are the same, in that they fixate in an identical way. This is at its most notable when it comes to travel. They get the idea to go somewhere, they mull it over for about a day, and the trip gets booked. This is how Bermuda happened. After coming back from our last cruise, her dad watched prices like a hawk and found a super cheap cruise to Bermuda, leaving from the very drivable New Jersey. He brought it up one day when we were over for dinner, we agreed that sounds nice , two days later we’re chucking our money at Celebrity Cruiselines once again. And so, on August 30th, we jumped on board the Zenith . It was smaller than other Celebrity ships we’ve been on, but it had the same amenities so size didn’t really matter (until later). We set off within view of the New York City skyline, and made a two-day beeline to Hamilton, Bermuda. Departure day was spent wandering the ship, unpacking, sipping contraband rum that we’d slipped on board in water bottles (because we’...

We caught Death Cab for Cutie last night at the Ottawa Civic Centre. Fantastic, fantastic show. Enjoyment aside, it also left me feeling hipper, happier, and more handsome—that last one because we looked at the band’s press photos later that night (extraordinary talented but doofy-looking bunch, there). Ted Leo and the Pharmacists opened up. I knew Ted Leo by name only. We’d visited Katie back about two years ago, and she and her then-boyfriend couldn’t stop talking about how much they loved him, the conversation clocking in at around sixteen tlpm (“Ted Leo”’s Per Minute). Now that I’ve seen him, I don’t blame them. Holy shit does that guy put on a good show. Plainest looking guy ever, looking like your middle-aged uncle, but he kills on guitar. I want to pick up an album, but I think he’s been doing his thing for fifteen years so I don’t know where to start. Help me out, Katie. Then it was Death Cab. Two things surprised me about the band. First, the way Ben Gibbard plays g...

I just finished Princess Mononoke last night. Is it just me, or does every anime movie end with someone or something turning into a lethal-to-the-touch, ever-expanding, gelatinous mass that consumes everything in its path?

I really can't stop playing this . Somebody please help me. Work, food, and personal hygeine have all been cast aside.

I’ve been trying this thing where I get up an hour earlier each morning. Typically, I start work at nine and, as it’s only a fifteen minute walk, I can roll out of bed at eight and still make it to work on time. (Some of you hate me for this—and you’re right to.) Well one morning last week, Gunther got me up early. He typically goes batshit at about four in the morning, and then I get up, chase him into the spare room, lock him up, and go back to sleep. But this one day, he was gracious enough not to perform his pay-attention to me freak-out until around seven. I though well shit, no point in going back to bed , so I sat down in front of the computer and worked for an hour. And it was great ! I’m not especially sociable first thing in the morning, but my productivity is phenomenal. So I thought I'd try to make a habit of it. I’ve failed a few times, on the grey days, or the days I’m up late frigging around on the computer, but by and large it’s been a pretty big success. ...

Sure it's cold out. Sure the days are getting shorter. Other than Hallowe'en is there anything good else that's good about this time of year? Of course! The Fall issue of Armada . It's finally here and it's chock-full of white trash babies, unsexy sex, invisible trees, and Ren Fair photos. Download your copy and tell a friend. Pay it forward, as they say.

I should have something about Bermuda up by now, but we just had the greatest lazy weekend that I remember having in ages. I left the apartment only once—to run an hour’s worth of errands—and I don’t think Sarah has even looked out the window since Friday at five. Don’t be afraid: we’re not stacking mason jars of our urine or growing two foot beards Howard Hughes style, we just luxuriated in doing nothing. I had all the time in the world to write about our trip, but that would have conflicted with my set-in-stone plans of relaxing, broken up by the occasional bout of chillaxing. Sarah read about nine books and watched only a moderate amount of Veronica Mars (she’s on a campaign to get the whole world to watch it, so if she hasn’t knocked on your door yet, she will, and soon). I reread The Catcher in the Rye for the first time since high school, and watched Belle de Jour , Midnight Express , and The Aristocrats . I also had The Third Man, that Metallica documentary, and...

Two years ago, Sarah agreed to marry this guy: And this guy: And, would you believe, this guy? But don't feel too bad for her, cause I agreed to marry this lady (she's the one in white, with her 'maids): Happy Anniversary, Baby!