I drove over after work Friday and met my mom and stepdad, and we went to Buckhead to eat at this crazy French place that serves pigs feet and stuff like that. Actually, the name of the place is "Au Pied de Cochon." I stuck with a filet and left the swine feet to Mom. (OK, I tasted it. Too footy for me.)
Saturday we went to bookstores and an antiques market and Ikea for bookshelves, which was the main reason for the trip. I still have boxes o' shit at home that I haven't unpacked because I don't have enough media storage places. I got two of these, which will fit nicely at the end of my living room and help out a lot.
Saturday night we had bison steaks at Ted's Montana Grille, which was a real treat. That bison stuff is GOOD, yo.
Sunday we had brunch at the Buckhead Diner, which was fun, and then went way the hell out to Decatur to the DeKalb International Farmers Market. That was a trip--very cool, but very scrange. I got several good things and saw fruits and vegetables I'd never heard of, as well as lamb mountain oysters, which I show you here for your edification:
I know, I know, I know. But I was just so horrified that I had to get a picture. And, yes, post it on the Internest.
Then I came home to Tuscaloosa, got attacked by Lonziliman, and had weird dreams. In one, I was playing some kind of game that involved trying to coerce a little yellow cat bird to climb a rope. And then there was another one where I was back working at Yale UP, and some people from production had seen my pay stub on my desk. When I walked up, they were all snickering and stuff, and I was all, "STOP LAFFING AT MY PEENIS . . . um, PAYCHECK!"
The "laffing at my peenis" thing is an inside joke I have with a friend. But still, that's weird.
OK, back to this horrible thing called Monday.