This may be the oddest quiz ever . . .

With Which Harry Potter Male Are You Most Sexually Compatible?
Harry’s my man:

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I dug my way out from under a pile of boxes to let you all know that I’m in my new house (which I LOVE) and back online. Now only 4,000,000 more boxes to unpack, and I can get back to work . . .
UPDATE: Sam just dumped out a box of his toys, so make that 3,999,999 boxes to unpack . . .

George gave me an early present — a kickass pink typewriter (just like the one at the top of my website) for my new office. It’s more for decoration — I make far too many typos to ever give up my spell check — but it’s going to look so very cool sitting on my bookcase.

Tomorrow’s moving day!

I’ll back online on Tuesday (if the cable man shows up to hook me up). So until then, have a wonderful holiday weekend. I hope I’m the only one celebrating by unpacking fourteen million boxes.

What the hell was up with the ending last night?

The AP has really been coming out with some groundbreaking stories lately. For example, their recent scoop:
Oprah’s Picks Good for Publishers.
Up next:
People celebrate Christmas by exchanging presents.

The new Harry Potter will be out this July!

I’m feeling very Grinch-like today. Four days until Christmas, and I spent the day taking down our tree, packing up all of the ornaments and wrestling a garland of gold beads away from little Sammy Loo Who.
It’s all for a good cause, though. This Friday we’re celebrating Christmas Eve by finally moving into our new house. We bought it way back at the end of the summer, just before two hurricanes ripped through our new town and tried to blow our house away, and have been leasing back to the sellers ever since.
So it’s going to be kind of a crazy, upheaval of a Christmas this year. But hey, what else is new. If everything were calm and peaceful, it wouldn’t be my life.

For his office Christmas party, George has to come up with two statements about himself — one true, one false — and then everyone guesses which one is which.
Here are my suggestions so far:
I like my job.
I hate my job.
I always tell the truth.
I never tell the truth.
I like George Michael’s Listen Without Prejudice, Vol. 1 CD.
I like the Spice Girls’ Spiceworld CD.
My favorite character in Star Wars is Boba Fett.
My favorite character in Star Wars is C3PO.
(Although this last one is too easy; clearly he has a thing for persnickety protocol droids).
He’s taking suggestions, if anyone wants to offer one. The party is Friday. I’m planning on having a sinus infection, and so will be unable to attend, but I will forward all ideas to him.
Update: This is all a bit anticlimatic, but George said they didn’t end up doing the questions. The questions he settled on, however are:
While in College, I:
a. Played drums for a punk band called Pablo and the Picassos, or,
b. Wrote and directed a film called Operation Zingo.
I actually don’t know the answer. But since George cannot play the drums, I’m going to go with b.
Update: George said that although you don’t actually need to know how to play the drums in order to play in a punk band, that I was correct, the answer was b.

So who wins the Biggest Ass prize for last night’s show? Jonathan, for shoving Victoria in a move that shocked even the normally stoic Phil, or Kendra, for her disgust at how the African people “just breed and breed”?
Yikes.
But all in all, it was a pretty good episode, I thought. The maudlin beginning I could have done without — they drive past starving children in the street, and then leave roses in memory of those who died over a hundred years ago? — but the challenges were interesting, and it was fun to watch all of the teams melting down.
I still don’t know who I’m rooting for. The dad and daughter team is pretty cool, but I don’t think they have a chance in hell of making it to the Final Three. Hellboy and Rebecca also won’t last much longer, nor will the wrestlers. Which leaves all of the model/actress/eye candy teams, and they’re pretty much interchangeable to me at this point. Just as long as awful Jonathan doesn’t win . . .