I was lazy this weekend. Brad had a few days off, and I had my regular weekend off, and what do you know - the two coincided. We decided to celebrate having actual daylight hours to spend together by doing, well, nothing in particular. Except taking cat pictures, of course!

Above is glimpse of where the magic happens. My desk, now looking out the window to our backyard and my friend, La Tree. As you can see, I coordinated my life so that my website, my walls, and my cat's eyes are all Tiffany Blue. Of course.

Guess how many movies we watched this weekend? Five. Well, six, if you count the cheesy ABC Family movie I watched from start to finish that starred Brian Austin Green, your 90210 buddy and mine. Friday night we saw Matchstick Men, which came highly recommended from a very lonely, bored Blockbuster employee who cornered Brad in the New Releases section. I was just around the corner when I heard her shrill voice exclaim, "OMIGOD! That movie is, like, so good and stuff. I mean, you should totally get it. There are, like, so many twists and turns. And that girl from White Oleander is in it...," and on and on and on. I am not a very good girlfriend sometimes, because I actually stood on the other side of the corner giggling, listening to Brad say "mmmhmmm" and oh really" politely, when I should have been saving him from the awkward conversation. When she finally walked away, Brad handed me the movie and gave me a look.

"We don't have to get it," I whispered.

"I know, but what if she checks us out? I don't want to hurt her feelings," he said. "Plus, that girl from White Oleander is in it, and it has, like, so many twists and turns, you know?"

I know. It did. In fact, every time a "twist" or "turn" would arrive, we would kick each other. "There's the twist!" Then a turn would happen, out of nowhere. She was actually right. I really enjoyed it.

Friday night's movie fest included Shattered Glass, the story of Stephen Glass, the "journalist" (read: big fat liarpants) who fabricated parts or all of 27 stories during his short career at The New Republic magazine in 1998. His story is interesting, the movie kind of sucked. You have to really care about journalistic integrity (or a lack thereof) to not do your taxes and pay the bills during this one. Plus, Chloe Sevigny weirds me out.

Saturday, before heading off to a graduation party for my sister Andreia (that's right, she's gradge-iating from college, everyone!), Brad and I watched Elephant, a Gus Van Sant movie. The movie basically reenacts the morning of April 20, 1999 at Columbine High School in Colorado. By reenacts, I mean you actually follow students walking through school hallways for more than half the movie. When I finally yelled "ENOUGH OF THE WALKING ALREADY," Brad explained that Van Sant was trying to capture the mundane-ness of the high school student's daily activities, in contrast with the sudden, horrific events that took place later that day. I get it. This movie brought the day to life, in a sick-feeling-in-the-pit-of-your-stomach kind of way. It wasn't the best choice to watch before attempting to socialize with party people we didn't know, though. We weren't the best company that evening, that's for sure.

Continuing with the depressing documentaries theme, we also watched Stoked and Capturing the Friedmans. Stoked is a documentary about Gator, a skateboarding star of the 80's who committed murder in 1992. Capturing the Friedmans documents the trials of a father and son accused of hundreds of counts of child molestation. Fun for everyone, non? Both were excellent, and creepy as hell.

Saturday we did some shopping for backyard stuff, because my whole family is coming in town for Dea's graduation this weekend, and we're hosting a family BBQ. We bought a grill and some pretty paper lantern string lights. I'm stoked, because I've always wanted a grill, but had never got around to buying one, and because the lights are a version of Tiffany Blue. Of course.



Brad was in charge of grilling this weekend. I was in charge of taking pictures of the pretty flames. Some might call this photo "blurry," I prefer the term "artistic."

I'm not sure if you know this, but I love throwing parties. I haven't thrown one in a few years, but anyone who came to Ryan & Lucy's Pink Party (or our Pajama Party, or the Miracle on 30th & X Christmas party, for that matter) knows just how much I love planning event details, down to the color of the punch and whether it complements the evening's theme. I stole an idea from the pretty pink house Ryan and I shared back in the day, one of the little things that made our gatherings special. Brad and I spent some of the weekend creating candle jar lanterns to hang around our fence when night falls at the BBQ:



I heard somewhere that Martha Stewart got canned. I'm thinking about applying for that gig.

I made the lantern on the right, and Brad made the one on the left, as evidenced by the perfect curve and tight weaving of the wire on Brad's jar. Brad is a perfectionist. I am much more twist the damn wire till it holds, no matter that the loose ends could poke children's eyes out and scar them for life, just get the damn thing together already so that I can watch The Real World, okay? His looks better, of course. In my defense, I did make more. Of lower quality. That are dangerous. Whatever.

In conclusion, I'd like to leave you with a picture that sums up my relationship with Stella. I love her and her utter disregard for my authority, not to mention my sanity.



I'm sorry, am I bothering you? Don't mind me. Really.

Lucy loves you |