An Open Door

Limited time to write today as I've got a few things to do outside of the house where the people are. Once my gross infected children stopped testing positive for that good Japanese-imported 'rona, I've been obsessively monitoring myself, including a panicked last-second sinus spelunking home test literally minutes before I left the house yesterday for my first day back to work in two weeks. Came up negative... somehow? I'm not sure how I've held it off this long. Maybe it wants to make sure COVID is serious before it lets things get physical. Maybe I'm the first person with a demisexual immune system. COVID at one point jumped from a bat to a person, I wouldn't think convincing my white blood cells it takes its taste in music seriously or wants to meet its parents is going to be that much of a challenge.

So I've made a date to go out into the wider Greater Los Angeles Area to meet a real person to do real person stuff, this time in Pasadena, outside, where it's hot. The good news about being from farther inland is even when it's hot wherever I'm going, it's almost always cooler than here. Which is why we never point our cars east until at minimum November. It makes getting home from trips to the beach complicated, but you can't be too careful. You could fuck around and end up in Arizona where all the people are now or will soon be sand.

Ha, just kidding, our cars would never let it get that far. As soon as we hit the Coachella Valley, they'd Tesla us into oncoming traffic. Smart cars are a real thing.

Next week my big giant plan is maybe to offer up a timely and unique review of the Barbenheimer phenomenon. If the internet needs anything, it's another mashup of disparate ideas given to us by the benevolent and not-at-all entirely coincidental overlapping of release dates decided by whatever algorithm farms run two Hollywood studios.

It's good that I'm busy today as I'm not quite ready. I've seen Oppenheimer, in glorious IMAX, just as it was meant to be seen, the perfect format for a movie that is over three hours long and comprised mostly of close-ups of people not blinking a lot.

Barbie will happen this week unless the COVID makes a boomerang looparound trip and hits me square in the genitals (and then presumably the rest of me, I've never heard of a case of SARS-CoV-2 only affecting someone's junk). You know if it talks its way in, that's right where it's going. It can say it likes your dog even though it barked at it that one time and watch 90 Day Fiancée with you and your mom, but everyone knows that's just to unkink the chain so the drawbridge can come down. Oldest trick in the book.