The Final Takeover...

Remember that movie, Planet of the Apes? An astronaut leaves earth and crash lands on a planet where civilized monkeys are the rulers and men the beasts. Only, we come to find out, this is not some far off planet, but our own earth--taken over by apes who enslaved mankind and took over! The whole scenario is quite preposterous, or so I used to think. Ever since we got a dog, however, I've been thinking the science fiction classic is perhaps not as fictional as we all think...

This is how it starts:

You buy a puppy. A cute, snuggly little guy who you teach to sit and roll over. He patronizes you with his tricks, but don't be fooled. He's simply biding his time.

You love your puppy so much, you can't help getting another pet. You're thinking: Great! More cute, snuggly pets to keep you company and enrich your life. Your dog is thinking: Great! New recruits. While you're busy buying squeaky ducks and Beggin' Strips, your dog is amassing an army...

At first they charm you with the novelty of animals acting like people. When they jump on your furniture, you find it so endearing that you run to get your camera, but soon... 

...they realize they don't need you in order to enjoy your bed:

...or your chair:

Here the strongest member is poised to ward me off lest I attempt to reclaim my chair. The fact is, you are outnumbered and they all know it...

So there is not much to be done when you wake up to find you are sharing your pillow with a Corgi.  All you really can do is put your arm around him and go back to sleep. He owns you now:

From here it's just a matter of learning how to speak English and sew rudimentary frocks for themselves before we humans become obsolete. Next thing you know, Charlton Heston shows up damning them all the hell in his most desperate holler. And you think, maybe things have gotten a little out of hand.

So let this be a warning for all mankind: Never let your dog (or an ape) sleep in your bed. It may seem innocent enough, but this is just how it starts...

Brandi Carlile at the State Room

We had a good time on Saturday night at the State Room, a new little venue in Salt Lake, seeing Brandi Carlile. She really makes some of the best music I've ever heard--lots of great acoustic guitar, cello, and piano. If you've never heard of her, you should really check her out.

But don't check her out like the rowdy group of drunk lesbians standing next to Roo were checking her out that night...

Comic Sans walks into a bar...

the bartender says, "Sorry, we don't serve your type." 

There is a world-wide movement to ban Comic Sans after what the members of the movement call an "epidemic of abuse." 

Soon you will have to find another font to make your Relief Society bulletin look "cute". If you want Comic Sans on your headstone, you'll need to die immediately. This is your last chance to send an anecdotal email in 36 pt., bright magenta Comic Sans for all your friends to forward. Because, as the New York Times explains, "The font, a casual script designed to look like comic-book lettering, is the bane of graphic designers, other aesthetes and Internet geeks." And the movement is gaining momentum. Comic Sans, after ten years of world domination, is about to be overthrown in one great bloodless coup. So you better get Comic Sans out of your system while you can.

I plan on wearing this shirt in memoriam:

Because We Couldn't Get Tickets to Britney...

Yesterday we were in the mood for some live music.

The Delta Center was pretty crowded with pre-teen Britney fans, so we had to settle for one of my very favorite in the whole world bands who was playing across the street at the Depot--TRAVIS.

Roo's heroic effort to stand in line in the rain for a few hours paid off with this being our view of the stage:

And it got even better once the band came on:

Some little known facts about TRAVIS:

1) that they exist. The majority of people have never heard of this amazing Scottish band despite the fact that they are not only awesome but can seriously rock.  Their relative obscurity in the States is okay with me, though. I wouldn't have had this view in an arena...

2) No one in the band is actually named Travis. Perhaps this explains their limited popularity. Most Americans just can't wrap their head around the idea of a band naming themselves after none of themselves...so they turn to more straightforward choices--like Britney.

3) The lead singer let me touch his leg.

Here is Fran paying homage to Britney by singing his version of "Hit Me Baby One More Time".

This version did not use any fireworks or choreographed hip thrusts as the one going on across the street probably did, but we still managed to enjoy ourselves. I just hope next time we see Travis that they consider at least wearing sequined body suits and exotic snakes.