Princess Wartfoot, The Glee Project and Our Dinner with Danzig

Things have been a bit slow around here.  Audrey has been dealing with a plantar wart on the bottom of her foot that has given her (and consequently me) no end of grief the last few weeks.  Sucker was quite painful and by the time I took her seriously (I plead Boy Who Cried Wolf here...) it was huge and impacting her gait in an obvious way.  Dr. Whitmore here decided that the OTC wart freezing kit was the path for us.  Audrey took it well, albeit very seriously.  We did the treatment and it hurt for a second but was over in under a minute.  After three treatments over a six week period it eventually turned an alarming black color prompting me to recommend to Audrey that she pick at it to 'get that nasty thing out of there'.  Evidence suggests that was the wrong advice as that particular course of action it made it very angry indeed - not to mention freaked the shit out of Princess Wartfoot.  A week of intense neosporin and corn pads later (and I'll admit several serious thoughts about getting her actual medical attention), Audrey was finally able to remove the necrotic tissue, and I am told, merrily deposited the pieces in her bedroom carpet next to her bed.

That reminds me, I need to vacuum.

The girls and I discovered The Glee Project this weekend.  It occurs to me that Ryan Murphy is either a genius or pure evil - perhaps evil genius?  It's on the Oxygen network so maybe Oprah is to blame?  Anyway - way to milk the Glee paradigm and give us yet another talent show but this time with the addition of teenage hormones and career aspirations.  But I watched it.  Then I took a shower.  I still feel guilty.

Yesterday we had a late lunch at our local O'Charley's restaurant.  After the waiter - who incidentally had a headful of curls that would have made Christopher Atkins jealous -  brought our drinks, I noticed Mr. Stone tapping his finger on the table.  As I looked down, this is what I saw...

This may seem vague to you, but after twenty years of marriage I immediately understood that some dude resembling Danzig was dining to my left.  Perhaps some of you may be unfamiliar with Danzig and his body of white hot rock and roll, but let me refresh your memory.  This is Danzig...

To be totally honest I have no idea if this is really Danzig or not.  I got it off the 'interweb' and posted it exclusively because of the super awesome belt buckle he's wearing.  What I know for sure is he's a rocker dude with super long jet black hair who I suspect looks a bit more like this press photo today...

Anyway as I look to my left I see GeorgetownDanzig sitting in a booth at O'Charley's with Nana and Popop Danzig right across from him. 

Many of you who know me know that one of my many serious social flaws is that when I see something interesting I stare with the reckless abandon of a 5-year old.  Now that I have actual children with me much of the time, the problem has gotten significantly worse because now there are three of us to stare with gapemouthed glee at whatever the universe has put in our path.  Mr. Stone has serious concerns we're going to get him beat to a pulp one day.  I fear he may be right.  This is why you have a picture of the note but not the actual GeorgetownDanzig.  I love Mr. Stone too much to endanger him by pulling out my cell phone camera.  My standards are low but I do have them. 

On this day I decided to keep the kids out of the loop because a) how do you describe the force that is Danzig to mere children and b) I wanted to be able to stare all by myself.  GeorgetownDanzig was fantastic by the way with raven tresses reaching to mid back - just the right amount of male-pattern baldness at the crown to make it interesting - and the pale skin and black tee shirt and jeans (that's right - black jeans!) that belied his obvious half century age.  He was seated across from the cutest elderly country people you've ever seen and when the waiter brough GeorgetownDanzig the veggie plate, including loaded potato, I thought I might pass out from joy.  I had barely recovered when the waiter then brought him a 32 ounce tumbler full of milk with a bendy straw which he proceeded to inhale as he alternated bites of potato and broccoli casserole.

Thinking The Universe could give me no more beauty than that, I was unprepared for the sight of the black comb (you know the kind with the rounded tail from junior high?) nestled in his jeans pocket as he followed Nana and Popop Danzig out of the restaurant.  I have been blessed indeed. 

Oh and in case you are wondering, Popop Danzig picked up the tab.

I've been smiling ever since.