We are marching slowly but surely toward February 15th, 2008, the release date of Jumper, the movie. They don’t have a trailer yet but as of this week, they have a website.

Though I don’t have adorable kitty pictures this week, (not that I couldn’t have adorable kitty pictures at the drop of a hat, mind you) I do have a collection of random stuff that’s been floating in the ether at Casa Spector. (I know. I should really clean the freaking ether up here.) 

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I had to give up drinking coffee a couple of years ago.  For the most part, I was successful at this, though I have been known to poach coffee from The Dude at Saturday breakfast.  (Saturday breakfast is a tradition Sven Knudson started about twenty years ago.  A fluctuating group of malcontents show up at various restaurants to consume vast quantities of food – and to bitch.) 

Anyway, I met a friend at Starbucks the other day.  I haven’t been in Starbucks since I quit drinking coffee.  Not unlike the alcoholic who should stay away from bars, I found just being in a place so redolent of brewing Sweet Nectar of the Gods was more of a temptation than I could stand for the first year or so. 

My friend arrives and gets an iced coffee.  Being the shameless mooch I am, I ask if I can have a sip of her enticing cold beverage.  (Mmmmm, caffeine.)  She graciously obliged.   

I take a sip. And then I have that moment we’ve all had, (girls more so than guys I suspect) the, “Do I spit or swallow?” dilemma.  Because what I have in my mouth is not Sweet Nectar of the Gods, but rather Satan’s Piss.   

You know: The Devil’s Urine.  Beelzebub’s tee tee.  Lucifer’s pee.  Mephistopheles’s piddle.   This stuff is so foul I’m pretty sure they must have an EPA permit to sell it. 

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Or How Can I Get Anything Done When Someone is Looking at Me Like That?