So, Hard Rock. There I stood, surrounded by guitars and records signed by people I'm sure were famous, but nevertheless clueless about my surroundings. That's what I get for marrying into a family of musical prodigies. It's a good thing the man doesn't have to take the woman's name when he gets married... I never would have passed the Shackelford Entrance Examination for World Domination Through Musical Trivia Knowledge.
All in all, I prefer Planet Hollywood. I can appreciate the slab of meat that Rocky worked out with, Leia's gold bikini, and the E.T. bicycle a lot more than a Les Paul signed by Billy Gibbons.
I had to look up that guy's name and what guitar he plays. Sigh.
Monday night, the Thurch gang recreated the traditional Passover feast. We wanted to go with all the traditional elements of Passover. If you didn't know, each part of the Passover meal represents a specific topic or idea that is supposed to be meditated on as you eat or drink it. Naturally, I went to a Passover website to look up Passover recipes. How exactly do they prepare the lamb these days?
Apparently, any gosh darn way you want. I saw a recipe for a Kosher beer battered lamb steak. I'm not even kidding. I decided to throw together a quick dry rub because, hey, we're not Jewish and there's no since wasting good lamb by not seasoning it properly.
So, we all sat down on the floor on some cushions, Cullen read the Haggadah, and after three glasses of Kosher wine (translation: liquid skittles), some bitter herbs (translation: parsley), some charoset (translation: apples, raisins and honey), and a platter full of lamb (translation: awesome), we had ourselves a traditional Passover celebration. Mazeltov!
One more thing. I just remembered (after watching The Biggest Loser tonight. No spoilers Tori, I promise!) that Jill and I saw a special somebody jogging down Old Hickory Blvd on Sunday morning. Yeah, it was Hannah from the Biggest Loser. We are 85% positive. If I'd had enough time to react I would've stuck my head out the sun roof and screamed at the top of my lungs. Go Hannah, Olivia, and Irene!!
Tori, dahling, break a leg in Spring Sing this weekend. You blow my mind up with helium and then suck my brains out and talk in a funny high-pitched voice. Er... I mean. You blow my mind. I should have probably just stopped there.