Amoeblog

(In which we witness love and marriage and indegestion.)

Posted by Job O Brother, May 4, 2009 01:29pm | Post a Comment
wedding

Howdy!

The boyfriend and I just returned from a weekend in the great country of Texas – Houston, to be exact. We went there to celebrate the marriage of some neat humans.

The boyfriend was Best Man at the wedding, so I spent a lot of time in the chapel entertaining myself as he practiced marching down the aisle, handing over rings, smuggling in tequila shots and body-blocking any attempts the bride might have of going “runaway” – you know, typical Best Man duties.

Having been raised in a church, I know how to find all the best hiding spots, and I felt immediately at home. Curled in a cool, dark alcove between the pipe organ and a wood-carved dove of peace, I listened to music on my iPhone and surfed the World Wide Web – reading The Guardian, watching this and this, and wondering why Facebook suggested I be friends with Bill Murray (who I still haven’t forgiven for dog-earing my copy of Dubliners).

Rice Memorial Chapel, the house of God in question, is tucked centrally on the campus grounds of Rice University. It’s a lovely, small chapel, decorated with gold tile and royal blue carpeting. It is noticeably lacking in denominational iconography – a single, movable, wood cross sat off-stage – which is to be expected, I suppose, from a University that specializes in applied sciences. Stained glass glorifying Dr. Willem Kolff healing the crippled with Jarvik-7’s and panels depicting various stages of the Scopes “Monkey” Trial would not have seemed out of place.

(In which Job & Corey cuddle with comedy & cookies.)

Posted by Job O Brother, December 30, 2008 12:06pm | Post a Comment
love
The author & his beloved celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.

It’s been a leisurely day, hanging at my boyfriend’s house. We’ve both been productive in our way; I’ve been souping up my new iPhone while he’s busied himself by setting people on fire and yanking things out of the bodies of little girls. It’s called Bio-Shock, and it’s a video game – don’t go calling the cops on my boyfriend. He almost never does those things in real life.

You know how human bodies are 55% to 60% water? I think, by now, my body is like 65% cookies. My holiday has been overwhelmed by cookies. I think I might hate them now. I’ve been bringing them to Amoeba and pushing them on our customers. If you want cookies, brother, come to the jazz room information desk at Amoeba Music Hollywood. I’ll help you find Pink Martini only if you first eat four peanut blossoms.

cookie

Lately, when my boyfriend and I go to bed together these winter nights, we’ve been doing the same thing.
...

…Er… Okay. I’m going to give you a moment to enjoy your imagination.

Okay, dear reader, if you’re quite done, I’ll tell you what we really do.

Curled beneath the covers, we’ve been watching sketch comedy on his laptop. It’s the perfect way to pass the time as you wait for the melatonin to kick in. And much more relaxing than our previous habit of watching Taliban executions and/or Carol Channing musicals. (It’s interesting to note that both will give you the same, horrific nightmares.)

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