Big Sunday Breakfast

It's 1433, and you know, I don't believe I am going to accomplish shit today. Why? Because I'm contentedly full from a monstrous midday Sunday breakfast. We're talking fried ham steaks, easy-over eggs, currant scones, a heaping bowl of cut-up pineapple, oranges, grapefruit and clementines, oven-roasted hash brown potatoes, all washed down with black strong coffee, and mimosas spiked with pomegranate juice. There's quite a lot of champagne left in the bottle, so I could make myself quite a few more mimosas. Hee hee. It's kind of crappy champagne (Andre), but add some OJ and pom juice, and it becomes quite nice. Tim turned his nose up at these and had a Big Bear Republic Black Stout. Which was also very good (Review).

Not only that, I think I'm going to go to bed early again tonight and get 11 or 12 hours of sleep AGAIN. This is awesome. 12 hours Friday, 11 hours last night... I haven't felt this good in ages.

We had a very nice Saturday. We went out for lunch in Ann Arbor at Miki, a Japanese seafood restaurant, and had a delightful sushi feast. Unfortunately, my sister-in-law came down with bronchitis, so she and my brother couldn't meet us there as planned. We decided to reschedule with them, but go have lunch anyway. Afterwards, we bought (FINALLY) a new vacuum cleaner from Sears. A canister-type, thank God. Can't wait to try it out today (ya right!!!). What I really can't wait to do is recreate a certain scene from 'Office Space'. But instead of a copy machine and a baseball bat, it's going to be with our hated upright vac and a sledgehammer. You think I'm kidding? I most certainly am not. Too bad I hate rap music so much, because if I had any in the house, I'd even put some in a boom box and play it while I beat the thing to smithereens. Last week some plastic tabs broke on the filter assembly, so now the piece of shit won't even function. Can't even donate it. It's completely, utterly useless now.

So when the weather warms up a bit, the neighbors just might hear vulgar gangsta rap blasting from the back yard and see me strolling back there with a sledge hammer and think I really have gone around the bend.