I’m working on updating the RSS feeds, but you can go have a look:

http://www.facetheperil.com

The Man Version will disappear in about a month. All future posts will be on the new site.

Enjoy!

Plot

• I do not understand Loki’s motivation. He gets the… tesseract?… and then opens a portal with it to unleash an army of flying gray Buseys to conquer a planet that he never visits because his big brother would (and does) pound the shit out of him. The Hulk wails on Loki like he’s trying to break a Rock Band drum kit. Tony Stark nails him with some Power Banter. Even the Robin Hood guy who didn’t have his own movie gets to blow his ass up. What was Loki’s ideal endgame here?
• Was that endgame advanced with the Giant Space Prawns?
• If you see this movie again, whenever someone on the screen refers to the Tesseract, replace it in your brain with the “All Spark.” I expect the film will become disturbingly familiar.

Characters

• Nick Fury is in charge of the Avengers. No one listens to Nick Fury. Even Captain America is a terrible soldier.
• It’s not clear how long Captain America has been thawed out.The reactions to him hint that he still has freezer burn, but he doesn’t seem to be grieving about all his friends being gone or disoriented about jumping forward 70 years. They even drop him in Stuttgart in his first action mission since WWII and he’s remarkably restrained for someone who can still smell Nazis. I guess they haven’t had time to teach him that we wear motorcycle helmets now, Captain Performance Enhancement.
• Speaking of Captain America, do you think he looked up what happened to his would-be girlfriend? If Peggy were still alive, she’d be in her 90s. Maybe he found her and ended up playing Hide The Vibranium with disastrous results? Might explain why he’s so grumpy.
• The first time we see The Hulk, he’s a feral, murderous beast trying to kill Black Widow and get the high score on Rock’em Sock’em Thor-bots. When we seem him again, just a few hours later in movie time, he’s a perfect team player — listens attentively, reacts reasonably, follows orders, even speaks a few words. Did punching Black Widow help him to chill out? If he punched Snooki into next week, the Hulk might get cured of his rage issues. I sure would.
• I would watch a full-length movie of just The Hulk leaping around and smashing Manhattan.
• I’ve seen a lot of cynical things written about the movie version of Black Widow. She’s basically Jessica Rabbit with ninja training; her superpower is needing to bend over; etc. But regardless of your feelings for the character, you can’t deny that Scarlett has some amazing cheekbones.
• I read that thing about the cheekbones somewhere. I was too busy looking at her ass.
• Scarlett is not the only one who can rock a catsuit, by the way. Canadian comedic actress Cobie Smulders used her two degrees of separation from Joss Whedon — she is on How I Met Your Mother with Buffy alum Alyson Hannigan — to wrangle a job as S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Maria Hill. (Both Maria and Cobie have dark hair, by the way.)
• I think that was Cobie, anyway. I was busy looking at her ass
  

  Also not a slouch in the cheekbone department

• Whoever designed the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms wanted to be sure they were always ready to go scuba diving. That can be handy occasionally, but I bet most of them would prefer pockets. You can also get that headset at Best Buy.

Misc

• Robert Downey Jr. gets a lot of accolades for being Iron Man (and accolades for Sherlock Holmes and more accolades for pretty much everything else he touches), but the best actor in that movie might have been Jeremy Renner. It might also have been Tom Hiddleston.
• What is it with Marvel and redheads? The Spider-Man franchise is the worst about this, but we’re seeing it here too: redheaded comic book women are being replaced by blondes with dye jobs and vice versa.

• Noted blonde Kirsten Dunst played the famously ginger Mary Jane Watson.
• Red-locked Opie spawn Bryce Dallas Howard was iconic blonde Gwen Stacey in Spider-Man 3 (the also-redheaded Emma Stone is Gwen in the new movie).
• In the comics, Pepper Potts is a redhead. I don’t know how Gwyneth Paltrow avoided the dye job.
• Black Widow — a redhead in the comics — is now immortalized by the naturally-brunette-but-traditionally-bottle-blonde Scarlett Johansson.
• Seriously, does Stan Lee’s daughter own a wig shop in Hollywood?
• Joss Whedon is famous for giving his friends jobs. It’s the only reason Elisa Dushku isn’t a pharmaceutical sales rep right now. You saw it in the recent The Cabin in the Woods with Amy Acker (Fred from Angel) and Tom Lenk (Andrew from Buffy). And you see it in The Avengers with Alexis Denisof as The Other (stay through the credits!) and Ashley Johnson (several characters in Dollhouse) as Waitress-Whose-Bacon-Is-Saved-By-Captain-America.
• Ashley was Mel Gibson’s daughter in What Women Want (alternate title: Christ, We Hate Women). She’s grown up enough to make me feel very old. But probably not as old as Mel.
• Joss is preparing a movie version of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, which should be a lot of fun. And a bit of a family reunion for Joss — if you look at the IMDB cast list, you have to go down nine spots before you find an actor who hasn’t been in some previous Joss Whedon Joint.

I enjoyed the movie a lot. I expect I’ll end up enjoying it more than the new Batman movie. But the best superhero movie so far this year is Chronicle.

While that person needs to be smote hip and thigh, what really galls me is the foolish way they used it. If I’m going to have my card number lifted, I want it at least lifted by a professional. Those of you thinking of entering this lucrative field, let me help you out.

Location, Location, Location

The first I knew about my card was a call from the fraud protection people. They had an unusual charge go through — $10 at a place called Perfect 10 Nails in Michigan minutes after that same card was used (by me) in Atlanta to buy half & half. One look at my nails is enough to convince anyone I hadn’t jetted off to Detroit for a manicure.

If you steal a debit card number, buy stuff online. Make it harder for them. Anyone can see that two simultaneous uses 700 miles apart is a red flag. Idiot. I hope your nails rot.

I have the card in my wallet. I don’t know what they did at the nail salon. Maybe this is a shady nail place that allows you to pre-pay over the phone? Maybe someone in Detroit has a machine that makes credit cards? Maybe the nail salon is just a front for a multinational drug-smuggling ring that sells narcotics in $10 packets? I don’t know. I’ll just assume I own a thimble full of heroin somewhere near Sterling Heights.

Prioritize

In today’s world, you probably have only a couple of chances with a stolen card before someone wises up. Get your big-ticket items dealt with first. The $10 at the nail place went through, but it’s getting reversed. A mediocre robbery, but an excellent ploy to tip off the bank, dumbass.

Once this thief got her nails done, she got online and tried to buy an airplane ticket to South Africa. The card was already locked by then, so her friends in Cape Town won’t get to see her new nails. I’m assuming this is a woman because they tend to go to nail places more then men, according to my limited, disinterested observations. Also because I’m assuming the guilty party is noted South Africa resident Dr. Evelyn Mervine Gauntlett, a stone-cold felon with steely eyes and blood like liquid nitrogen.

J'accuse

She only has the one earring. The other is still inside the last person who crossed her.

Evelyn has already denied ownership of the new nails, since she’s a geologist and a manicure would get destroyed immediately. She denied it so quickly, it’s almost like she had that line already prepped. It’s a solid case. Sure, Evelyn isn’t a moron, but maybe this was her first time. Normally I enjoy helping people in entry-level positions, but couldn’t we have started with my grocery discount card? Did we have to go diving for my debit card?

Even an out-of-control geologist with a taste for chaos can’t get around the U.S. banking system. Good luck next time, Evelyn!  Or, you know, whomever.

As satisfying it is to stop credit card fraud in its tracks, it’s still left me without my bank card for at least two days. And when I get a new one, I have to go through all my online banking accounts and set things up again. It’s a true hassle for someone who takes no pride in her work, and it’s personally embarrassing. I really hope those nails were pretty.

I object to having my card stolen. I object even more to having it stolen by a vain amateur. It reflects poorly on me. If I meet the thief in person some day, I want to offer some grudging respect before I start exacting my revenge. (Phase one: My tarantula bazooka. You have screwed with the wrong credit union member.)

If we don’t start taking pride in our work, this country will never be what it once was: controlled by mob bosses.

During that talk, I speculated how awful it would be if they tried to make a follow-up Titanic movie. They’d call it Titanic: The Sinquel or Titanic’s Revenge: Sinko de Die-O. Actually, they made a Titanic II, but it was more of a rebuild-the-ship-and-and-sail-the-same-course-and-oh-shit-is-that-an-iceberg-aieeeeeee-glub movie. If you like Bruce Davidson and didn’t get enough of him as the slimy senator from the first X-Men movie, it’s your lucky day.

I’ve thought more about it since, and I now believe a sequel could work. So let’s talk about…

Titanic: The Ship of Nightmares

Subtitle: She was called un-re-sinkable

Do any of you have Leonardo DiCaprio’s phone number? Brian Thompson, I’m glancing sideways in your direction.

Plot

Does the internet have anything NOT rendered as a zombie?

Titanic comes back to the surface, crewed by all the people who went down with her — including Jack Dawson, who’s got the Heart of the Ocean necklace on. Of course they’re zombies now, and they’re pissed. They have spent the last 100 years constructing a weapon that will wipe out their natural enemy: icebergs.

I know icebergs are a pathetic mortal enemy. They are formed and moved by the most basic of physical processes. They are easily destroyed by bringing the temperature to 33 degrees Fahrenheit or higher. Almost everyone in all of human history has been able to get out of an iceberg’s way, though I admit this probably doesn’t comfort people on the Titanic. Icebergs are simply not menacing. At worst they are morally neutral.

But that’s just the beginning.

The reanimated Titanic victims have constructed a powerful laser, thanks mainly to a sunken cargo ship in 1992 carrying a bunch of books titled What Lasers Are And How To Make Them Out Of Coral. They jauntily go around melting every iceberg from Newfoundland to Baffin Bay by… this will be important… superheating the water.

The warmer water disrupts the food chain in the North Atlantic. Polar bears, seals, cold-water fish and the like start turning up dead. The Inuit and the Norsemen who depend on such creatures begin to suffer, so they summon the only help they can imagine: they begin the rites to re-float the Bismarck: the WWII warship that was the most impressive thing on the Atlantic Ocean until it sunk southwest of Ireland. It was 30 years more advanced than the Titanic, and designed to be a battleship, not an ocean liner. The Bismarck sets sail for the Labrador current.

One problem: the Bismarck is crewed by Zombie Nazis. England furiously begins resurrecting the HMS Hood. I’m thinking Orlando Bloom would make a good Ralph Kerr, captain of the Hood. His wife’s maiden name is Kerr too.

Love Interest

It’s tempting to have Zombie Jack Dawson hunt down the older version of Rose we saw in the Titanic movie. But Rose would be about 119 years old, and we don’t want to make this film unbelievable. So we have Jack standing in Titanic‘s bow the whole time, arms wide open in his “king of the world” position, just moaning “Rose… Rose… Rose…” the whole time. Sort of an homage to the original movie.

At the very end, we can have Zombie Rose emerge and they go off together somewhere. We’ll assume she was buried at sea. He gives her that big stupid diamond back, and they either sink together beneath the waves or move to Boca Raton.

Endgame

A huge sea battle, of course. Titanic v. Bismarck v. Hood. The other two, both being British ships, gang up on the Bismarck and eventually resink it. As it slips under, we hear all 2,000 ex-German soldiers singing some German tune. An American audience probably wouldn’t recognize “Das Lied der Deutschen” so instead maybe “99 Luftballoons” or something.

Does England have one of these? We want to make the zombies WANT to die.

Then in a moving denouement, the living British government sends a representative out to broker a peace. I don’t know — Doctor Who or Margaret Thatcher or Harry Potter, someone recognizable to the audience.

They convince Zombie Captain Kerr and Zombie Captain Smith that the cost of revenge is too great a cost for the world to pay, what with inflation and all, and could we get that screaming idiot in the bow to shut up, or at least put his arms down? They agree and allow both vessels to return to their watery graves, true Englishmen to the end and beyond.

The whole thing was a metaphor for global warming, you see?

After the Credits

It took them too long to get there. Everyone’s gone when they arrive. But the battleship fleet destroyed at Pearl Harbor shows up. With no war to fight there, they set sail for Japan. Coming soon to theaters near you — USS Arizona II: Tokyo Gets Re-Zoned.

SyFy channel: call me! Let’s haggle.

They are still better ideas than clean-shaven men advertising moustache rides

Having never done this before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t think our divorce was going to be complex for Da Man. We had already split up the possessions and figured out a plan for the debt. Maria had no proof that it was me siphoning gas from her car, and I lost the evidence that she had hung the DANGER: THERE BE SYPHILIS HERE sign on my front door.

And I was right. There was one small snag in that she didn’t sign something she was supposed to (not her fault, although legally the non-American is always liable in Georgia). That was quickly remedied with a court-issued pen with which she now has visitation rights. I had also written the wrong year for our wedding date, but I’m sure they don’t check. If they do, then we’re still married and that’ll turn out to be HILARIOUS someday.

Though our time with the judge totaled less than five minutes, it’s not like we got out of there at 9:05 and could get on with our day. They don’t do the easy ones first. So I’m going to offer some advice to keep your sanity while you’re hearing the soul-crushing stories of everyone else.

Bring a book

I think having a book handy at all times is a good idea anyway, but especially in court. You could be sitting there all morning. The benches are as comfy as an average pew, so you’ll need something to distract you from your ass falling asleep. You can’t get away with headphones, since you never know when you’ll get called, and the battery on your smartphone won’t last forever. You can’t just sit there and chat because the judge will have the bailiff pistol-whip you.

Eat beforehand

You do not want to get in front of a judge for a life-changing event and be all cranky because your blood sugar is low. The judge can call a recess whenever he needs to step into a Slim Jim, but you’ll get held in contempt if you rip open a bag of Bugles. Leave a little early and pick up a McMuffin with a side of Tums.

Don’t start The Wave

Misdemeanor. A previous Georgia governor hated The Wave. However, you can do the Braves “Tomahawk Chop.”

Be prepared to judge the other people

As depressing as a divorce is, there is always something around to lend perspective. For me, I have several years of bitching about cancer to fall back on. It’s even becoming all the rage among my friends.

If you can’t play the cancer card, you’ll still hear from some people who make you remember you don’t have it all that bad. For them, you can kill time making up back stories. For example, we heard from two women who had each been separated for more than 20 years and wanted to make it official. (Maria and I had only been separated for about 18 months and it felt like we were dragging our feet.)

I know everyone has their own situation and their own reasons for just not dealing with it, so I’m not trying to mock them. Though after 20 years, I was dying to figure out what changed. But the judge didn’t ask and neither of them responded to the notes I passed over. I’m assuming they married covert spies who were killed in unfriendly countries and the State Department had to deny all knowledge. Call it Operation Fucking Some Other Woman In Indiana.

At the other end of the spectrum, there were two young people that looked like they were straight out of high school. They got married on Groundhog’s Day this year, separated three weeks later, and wanted an annulment. They, like I, assumed that you could get an annulment after only being married a short time, sort of like the return policy for an Amazon Prime member. But no, there are specific conditions for an annulment:

• You and your spouse are related as follows: parent/child, stepchild; grandparent/grandchild; aunt/nephew; uncle/niece (notice that you can’t get an annulment for marrying your sibling or cousin — thanks for the stereotype Georgia! Also not annullable — dog/fetus)
• You did not have the mental capacity to enter into a contract
• You were under the age of 16 when you entered into your marriage
• You were forced to enter into the marriage
• You were fraudulently induced to enter into the marriage
• Your spouse was married to another living spouse at the time you entered into the marriage

I think Kim Kardashian’s marriage violated at least three of these.

So the young ex-lovers (I think — he did have his arm around her the whole time, and I *still* got no back story! I’m going with “both foreigners looking for Green Cards but forgetting to verify that the other was a U.S. Citizen”) had to get a regular divorce. That’s a lot of trouble just to be sure you have a date for Valentine’s Day.

The Grand Prize

The ones we got the most judgey on were the two people who couldn’t even look at each other and who refused to discuss a visitation plan for the kids. She said she “didn’t like who he was living with” and wasn’t comfortable with giving that person access to her children. And he was all “I’m living with my sister!” A court attorney had come out to see them before to try to work something out, but no dice. The woman said they would just “figure something out.” But this is the U.S. Judicial System — you gotta write it down. Eventually the court attorney dragged them both back outside to try to work it out face-to-face, perhaps using the Gwinnett County Municipal Thunderdome. I could tell the judge wanted to do what was best for the kids: putting them on eBay.

To Sum Up

Be prepared. Get that book. Get that breakfast. If you have even a minor point of contention, get that lawyer. In fact, if you get the lawyer anyway, you can settle up everything out of court. If not, get a little pillow — those court pews are unpadded.

In All Seriousness

If you’re going through this with any level of difficulty, you have my sympathy. It’s emotionally draining, ending a marriage. At least a marriage that was mostly good. One of the advantages to the waiting for 18 months was that I dealt with all that before and had gotten past it. The actual divorce was pretty much a non-event. There was no sitting in the Target parking lot shrieking along with mediocre anthems or whiny despair-filled ballads.

Oh, apropos of nothing, have you guys seen these videos?

YouTubers can lay it on thick, eh?

Anyway, for those who asked: thanks, but I’m fine. Really. Maria is too. I’ve got my Vagina Inspector t-shirt, my kicky little monocle, and some theater ropes up to keep the ladies from messing up my holly bushes near the door. (Anyone who brings pruning shears gets the good coffee!)

For those having a tougher time, I wish you well. Staying in an unsatisfying relationship is not better than being by yourself, though it may be easier. I hope you come through it cleanly.

If not, at least put on a good show in the courtroom. The rest of us are getting mighty bored.

So one of these is not like the others!

I was maybe 60% serious -- 65% TOPS!

More to come soon, with a NEW URL (I know, changing my URL is my answer to everything) and a brief, non-controversial discussion about how everyone who is pro-life is an evil, sadistic hypocrite! Stay tuned!

The wall next to my shower has done it to me, and it’s totally ruined my bathroom experience.

The walls in my bathroom are painted this lurid yellow. But the paint was dabbed on with a sponge or rag instead of applied evenly with a brush like a normal person would do. It was done like this by the previous owner of the house and I’ve always hated it. The walls look like Big Bird exploded or there was a Marshmallow Peep kamikaze attack. It really distracts from my reading. But for most of my time in this house, Maria was the main user of that bathroom and she didn’t seem to care, so what the hell.

Anyway, this was the scene that greeted me today, as it’s greeted me every time I’ve showered since moving my stuff in there.

See what I mean about the paint job?

Horrible. In case you can’t see it, let me show you the high-tech rendering I made using every shred of my massive artistic talent.

Honestly, did they just pee on the walls?

This is obviously Neo trying to rape SpongeBob Squarepants. I believe that’s Woody Woodpecker exiting stage right. Looks like Neo took the blue pill this time.

UPDATE: I said SpongeBob, but obviously I meant SpongeBob’s friend Patrick the Starfish. I regret the error, but then I don’t watch pervy sex films like that.

How am I supposed to take a shower with this shit going on?

I know pareidolia doesn’t mean anything. I know it’s not really Neo going all Dragon Tattoo on a kid’s cartoon. But it’s hard not to wonder what this says about my brain.

If anyone needs me, I’ll be looking for my paint rollers and drop cloths.

I think I may have casually mentioned that Marian Call was coming to Atlanta. I’m not sure, but I believe it may have come up.

It happened! She totally did! I have proof! This is her singing peacefully until her song is suddenly crowdsourced.

If you were in Atlanta and didn’t come to this show, then I can’t imagine what’s going on in your head. But take heart — you can serve as warnings to those who haven’t yet stupidly missed the chance to see her. (Seattle, I think you’re up next.)

Note: Her guitarist is Scott Barkan and he’s terrific. He’s got a few of his own albums out and some solo gigs for the lucky folks in New York. You can spot him in the video — he’s sitting to Marian’s left and he’s armed with an impressive beard. And he’s playing a guitar.

Scott went back to NYC on Sunday morning and Marian left for home yesterday afternoon. I’m not sure when she arrives in Anchorage, because the last 14,000 miles are by dogsled.

Travel schedules are unreliable during squirrel season

In any case, they’re gone and life can get back to normal here at ManVersion HQ and I can resume bitching about movies, stressing about cancer, and making up physics problems, since my life doesn’t intersect with any wandering minstrels any more. It’s just as well, because I have a lot of housework to catch up on. Lots of boxes to move and… ummmm… oh shit…

Holy crap, Marian left a poster tube behind!

Seriously, Marian and Scott are great performers and even better people. It was an honor to host them for their Atlanta stop. And I’m not just saying that because hanging out with those two kept me from seeing John Carter last weekend. (Which reminds me — I should add them to my will.)

Marian really did swipe my house key, though. It was a frantic morning of packing. Or maybe she just has an odd hobby. I would be stressed if I didn’t have like eight more of them. Plus she lives like a billion miles away. What’s she going to do? Come back here, sneak in my house in the middle of the night, and murder me in my sleep because I forgot to mail her typewriter back in time for her next gig? HAHAHAHAHAHAH–… Hmmm. Okay, I definitely need to hit the UPS store today.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who came to the show. Those who wanted to but couldn’t, cheer up because Marian will be back for Dragon*Con. (I’m sure I’ll post details about eight times here as we get close.) And for those who didn’t want to come to the show, I think there’s a help line for you.

Now: back to work. Let’s figure out how many sweater vests Rick Santorum must to wear to be comfortable when he visits his childhood home on Mars.

I haven’t been divorced, but I have started the process — at least, the process as far as the government is concerned. The important part of the process for me was over awhile back, but we have to make it official with The Man. So earlier this week I finally turned in the papers to the Gwinnett County (Georgia) Superior Court. It looks something like this:

So you'll be single again soon, dear? You'll want to Biggie-size

It’s not exactly like this, of course. I had to get out of my car. But it’s a little like walking up to the counter at a Taco Bell, except superior court doesn’t take as long. Oh, and it costs about $200, which would get you a lot of gorditas. I think they’re cheaper in bulk, judging from the divorce habits of some of my extended family.

This was just filing the papers. There will be a court date where they try to figure out who has more neck bruises. I didn’t think I was going to be dealing with powdered wigs (damn it). But I also didn’t think I was going to be tempted to order a Baconator. They must wonder why so many people come to superior court with their mouths watering.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Something a little more… somber? I expect there’s a range of emotions associated with divorce proceedings. None of those emotions are satisfied by a walk-up window (unless your primary complaint was “that bastard never let me pay the water bill in person”). Having the guy at the next window explain loudly why he needs to get out of jury duty also fucked up the ambiance.

But it’s efficient. In and out in 10 minutes, so I suppose they know what they’re doing.

I expect the court date to be less efficient, especially in this case where there’s no kids or alimony or restraining orders or even contested creature comforts. Truly, breaking up has never been easier — there’s no I WANT MY ALBUMS BACK YOU BITCH when everything has been converted to MP3s. Just plug in a portable drive and it’s all good.

How would you cover everything in slobber without us?

I don’t think I need to talk to a judge (though I would like a special investigator to discover how I got full custody of both dogs). I suppose legal procedures must be followed. Sometime in the next 60 days, there will be a court appearance and they’ll decide what to do with our arguments — “he hates vacuuming and always has to have the better cell phone” versus “she won’t kill her own goddamn cockroaches and I’m pretty sure she’s a Pakistani Al Qaeda member.”

FUN FACT: You should finish divorce proceedings before trying to have someone deported. (I wonder where I’ll be sent?)

Since I clearly don’t have boundaries when it comes to blogging, I’ll give a full review of the court appearance when it happens, because how else will you know?

If you’ve been putting that nagging divorce off because you think you just haven’t had the time, don’t fret. It’s quicker than you think! It was a painful decision and you’re probably still a little sad and angry about it, but it’s surprisingly easy considering it affects the rest of your life.

Just like going to Arby’s.

UPDATE: Two quick things:

1) My friend Heidi Anderson pointed out on Facebook that your mileage may vary in different places. In her home state of South Carolina, she has to wait a year after separation to file, except in cases of abuse or drug usage or infidelity or not voting Republican. Things like that. But once she hits that one-year mark, I’d be curious to see what her filing process is like.

Here, I think the preferred wait is six months, although the documents I saw were vague. It takes a better person than I to interpret legal forms. But I’ve actually been separated for something like 14 months, so it didn’t come up.

2) I don’t want to get into the reasons behind my divorce, but I can sum them up in two words: gay marriage. To recoup my $200, I’m going to be selling t-shirts reading GEORGE TAKEI RUINED MY LIFE.

Everything below is no longer valid, or are simply brazen lies.

UPDATE: This show is FILLED UP! If you haven’t gotten a confirmation from me, then we’ve run out of seats. There may still be seats at the show on 3/9 – check below for contact information. (I will also keep a waiting list.)

I may have mentioned that before.

But the details are ironed out and we’re now taking reservations! March 10!

There is no admission, although we’re giving you the opportunity to kick a few bucks Marian’s way.

Good for all ages. Bring the kids!

And please tell everyone you know. Stop them in the street if you must.

To RSVP, simply email me at christian [at] christianwalters.net and I’ll get you on the list and send you additional details/directions/etc.

If Lawrenceville on the 10th is hard to pull off, she’s doing another house concert on the 9th near Candler Park. Contact banyashj *at* hotmail.com for details to that one.

See you then!