Sunday, April 19, 2009

Drip. Drip. Buffed.

Sunday, April 19, 2009
Last night we watched Die Hard. I'm pretty convinced that Gary is attempting to make up for 25 years of missed action movie opportunites in record time- by 2012, we'll have nothing left to watch and will be forced to break up because we'll have nothing to do or talk about.

Anyway, after watching Die Hard (have I ever mentioned how much I love Alan Rickman? If Alan Rickman showed up at my door I wouldn't even stop and grab my purse, I'd be gone so fast into the sunset with my mid-life Brit.)

(Same goes for Daniel Craig, George Clooney, Colin Firth and David Tennant)

(I know George Clooney is not British, but could you imagine if he WAS?! He'd be like the male embodiment of lemon gin!)

(I'm pretty sure that reference is Saskatchewan-based and hang my head in shame)

...sorry, I was in the middle of a sentence. Ok. So after watching Die Hard, neither of us was ready for bed, so we decided to watch an episode of Dollhouse we had queued up. Refreshments are required for a viewing of an inevitably pre-emptively canceled Joss Whedon sci-drama, so I went to grab some gummi bears and some water.

And then, in the kitchen, I heard this noise coming from the ceiling.

A noise one doesn't want to hear at one in the morning, or pretty much anytime, really.

A watery noise. A rushing noise. A oh, crap, there is water dripping THROUGH the light fixture in the kitchen noise.

Crap. But you know, there is something to be said about Gary's sound system. I couldn't even hear that gross, stagnant-smelling water dripping into pots and buckets, that science fiction white noise just drowned it right out.

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