It’s warm in Austin today. Ray and I were hanging out with friends last night, and I was talking with Sheila out on the back deck, and we were exchanging sheepish admissions that, even though it’s actually cooler this summer than in past years, we seem to be more adverse to spending time out in the heat. This probably has something to do with the fact that it’s been so wet and comparatively cool this year — and so bloody humid.

It was a pleasant evening overall. It was the sort of dinner party that I need to start giving – instead of the hostess (Bianca) making all the food for guests, it was one of those gatherings where everyone pitched in and did something. Jackie brought her secret family recipe for alfredo sauce (and it’s damned good alfredo sauce), I was on the sautée station, doing up shrimp and chicken, Bianca took care of the pasta in a massive pot, and Sheila and James’ mother, Elma, provided the entertainment and kept the drinks fresh while we cooked. The sauce was rich … very nicely rich … and creamy, and it was exactly the sort of meal you want to eat when you’ve been working in a kitchen while gossiping with friends and drinking way too much on an empty stomach.

I was about seventeen sheets to the wind by the time we actually ate, but that was part of the fun. Thank God Ray was the designated driver.

And that sort of explains why this morning I made Ray go out for something greasy. My hangovers usually manifest themselves in headaches that require some sort of greasy food to make them go away. And then it was off to Costco, where this time we weren’t condemned to Hell for stealing a parking spot. The dog was out of food, but they also had the concoction Rachael Ray refers too as “EVOO,” some spices I got to pick for cheap, and a couple of random things we didn’t actually need, but that’s the fun of going to Costco.

Ray has, for some time, wanted to take me to Grapevine Market for lunch, which is one of the umpteen gourmet markets we have in Austin, but it’s one of the only ones that has expanded into our suburb. There has been a long-standing rumor of either Whole Foods or Central Market – they’re both local chains (how many people can say that about Whole Foods), and there’s clearly a market for organic/natural food in Round Rock, so I keep my fingers crossed that we’ll eventually see one or the other … or both! … up here.

Ray is always surprising me. He seemed to find it weird that I wouldn’t expect him to order a panini with cheese, sun-dried tomato, and fresh basil, but … well, of all of the items on the menu, it wouldn’t have been what I would expect him to order first. I’d love to claim that this is my influence rubbing off on him It’s nice that there are still surprises after 7 years.

And so. I’ve spent the last couple of hours parked on the sofa watching the last couple of episodes of Top Chef, because they always rerun them on Saturday. Otherwise I wouldn’t get to watch it.

I know — getting to the title of the post — that plenty of other bloggers have commented on the torrent of spam that comes in on MySpace these days. I don’t actually socialize on the social site — in fact, I recently deleted someone from my friends list for being overly social — and usually you can tell when the spam comes in, because it seems to manifest itself in threes. When three friend requests come in at the same time, they’re all spam. I usually check first, because now you can report friend requests as spam, and they’re always trying to get me to sign up for an adult site oriented for straight men (even when the profile is for someone named “James”).

This afternoon I checked into the latest round of spam – I’ve discovered that if you wait long enough, the profiles will have been deleted and all I have to do is go in and clean out my inbox.

There was, however, one last spam message that was, at least for MySpace, unique. I clicked over to the profile to check it out, and it promised me “real gay porn” (as opposed to the fake kind?), “midget amputees,” and “necro-bestiality” What the hell is that? Sex with dead animals? I’d rather think about Putin on Brokeback Mountain!

Anyway. That’s what I’m currently up to. Nothing terribly exciting, but there’s a bottle of Vinho Verde (that’s “veenyu ver-jee” for those who don’t folha portugûes) chilling in the fridge and we’ve got some bad movies to watch. It’s Saturday night at the end of the month, folks, what can I say? :silly:

Hope your weekend is going well!