these days of leiderhosen

Don't tell me I have not introduced you to Fillup Munkee. Here's the latest. This is my very favorite of the Holiday Episodes (warning: there are cookies).

Berkeley Bowl Turkey Chili kicks ass to say nothing of their sushi. Damn. Those people know food. Shoppin ' for a new toaster. Love toast; don't want to spend $200 on the metal box that inevitably will blow the fuse and be garbage in 6 months. (Why do toasters always fail? Toast is the momma of food. Toast is the hug, the haiku, the clean floor on a hot day. Yes. Toast.) You know that dream where you are trapped in a dive of a hotel and are trying to find 1) your room 2) your pants and 3) a way out? And how it usually goes is that the rooms become increasingly decrepit and the hallways confusing and concierge is passed out? That was last night. The last room looked like an 1890s outhouse before I climbed out of those sweaty sheets and looked at the sky for a good long while. Nothing can clear the mind like some stars. Never did find my pants. Anyone?

In case you missed last night's first and best rendition of "At Last": Beyonce, Obama and Michelle . -sniff!- To there straight guys out there; this this this is how every wife wants her husband to look at her. Please try not to step on the dress.