The Bastion came out to see Rogue 8 and said we "moved fluidly in action and dialogue. Nary a beat was dropped in the 45 minute performance, and several hearty laughs were shared." Several, folks. Four weeks left, if you want to share several hearty laughs.

Century Rain by Alastair Reynolds is a nice, meaty SF book about a post-Nanocaust Earth and a sort-of alternate history Earth in 1959 where WWII never happened. Except the alternate Earth exists three hundred years in the future and half-way across the galaxy. It's complicated. The best parts of the book are from the point of view of Wendell Floyd, a lowrent jazz musician and private detective in 1959 (sorta) Paris. I think I could easily read a whole series of Wendell Floyd detective novels.

And just as I'm nearly my challenge goal of 50 books, I find out that New York standup Leo Allen is aiming for 100. Splutter. It's really hard for me not to rise to the challenge and up my ante to 100, also. But wait, he lists Lulu Eightball by Emily Flake at #51. I mean, it's great, but it's a collection of cartoons. If I can list collections of cartoons...

Found in the dressing room at the Improv Kitchen.

Update: Matt Martin points out that this is almost certainly inspired by the Toothpaste for Dinner cartoon panflute flowchart.

Last night, Erica and I were having a late supper. On several recommendations we had gone to see Playtime at the Musicbox. It was great, by the way. I usually have an attention span of about 3 seconds, and I complain and complain about how slow old movies are, but I sat enraptured through long slow takes of very little happening at all (and other shots where so much is happening that you're not sure what to look at).

Anyway, we didn't even start cooking until 11 pm. I threw some burgers on the grill and grated some pepper jack (Tillamook pepper jack, which is also great. I remember when Tillamook cheddar showed up in Chicago a few years ago and I'm happy that more varieties of Tillamook are available here now) over some torilla chips and stuck them in the oven on broil.

And we got talking and yakking and I flipped the burgers once and, hey, I almost forgot about the nachos.

When I opened the oven door, cartoony flames shot out half a foot in my direction. AAAAAA! I slammed the oven door shut. Whadda I do? Whadda I do? OK, turn off the oven. Done. OK, let's get that pan out of there. Turn on the sink and grab some hot pads and open the oven door again. Flames! AAAAA! Slam. Now smoke was starting to bubble out of the burners on the stove. And the smoke alarm went off. Well, good to know that works. Fire extingusher! OK, it's got some sort of seal on it, good thing this isn't an emergency, I'd be dead by now. There, got it. Open oven door. Whoosh. The fire's out but there's still smoke everywhere.

And now there's another alarm going off out in the back stairwell. Great. Did I set off someone else's smoke alarm? And now the smoke alarm on the oven starts going off. Great job, oven. I set up a fan to blow the smoke out of the kitchen and sure enough in a minute the smoke alarm in my place went out. But the alarm in the stairwell was still going. Great. We all just moved into this building and I've been trying to make a good impression on the neighbors. A loud alarm at 11:30 pm is probably not the best way to do that.

I went out into the stairwell to look. There was a loud mechanical bell alarm in a box at the bottom of the stairwell. There were no switches visible to turn it off. The four units in my building all have alarm systems that the previous owner had installed and Shaun and I hadn't bothered figuring it out because we didn't plan on using it. But I guess the fire alarm in my unit had triggered it. But how to turn it off? I went down into the common area and found a box labeled "Norshore Alarm", the same name as on the security system in our unit. Amd it was even clicking in rhythm with the alarm. And it was locked. But it had phone numbers on it -- I ran back upstairs and grabbed a phone. "The number you have reached has been disconnected." Crap. (I didn't try this until today, but the "Contact Us" link on their website is also a 404. Good job, Norshore.)

When in doubt, brute force is always an option. So I took the alarm box apart and disconnected the alarm. It took a really long, loud time to get all the screws off the cover plate. And of course I took all the screws off in the wrong order so the alarm fell inside and the box and made different loud klaxons. But, finally - silence, blessed silence.

Oh, and the burgers? Erica saved the burgers.

P.S. If you have an oven fire, don't actually bother opening the oven. Just turn it off and wait for it to burn out.

P.P.S. I just realized that my little oven fire was literally a three-alarm fire.

I had a busy night last night -- right after work there was a "roast" for our retired Executive Editor, Arthur Kretchmer, who had that position for 30 years. Two highlights of a packed evening -- the best steak I've ever eaten (we were at Gibsons) and a woman jumped out of a cake. Well, popped out -- there wasn't much jumping. I've never seen that, except in movies and cartoons. I was curious, so I asked the person who organized the cake/woman/popping -- did she supply her own cake? No. He rented the cake and then hired the woman. Noted.

After the dinner, I ran off to see 2 Skinnie Js at the Bottom Lounge. The roast had gone on a little longer than I thought it would, and I had left my ticket to the show at home, so I was worried that I was going to miss part of the show. I did miss the opening band (sorry Bicycle, Tricycle) but I got there just in time to see the whole 2SJs set. It was a kick-ass show. Too bad they're breaking up. Quick! Become a 2SJs fan, before it's too late.

I've only really gotten to know Arthur over the last year or so, as he was preparing to leave. And I became a big 2 Skinnie Js fan just in time for their farewell tour. Sigh.

Back in November I did the Sybilization solo improv performance thing and in one of my shows I created (as one does in an improv show) a character named Mouse Beard Fred, who was a creepy guy who had a mouse named Malcom living in his beard. In the show, he tried to attack a woman who turned out to be a kung fu expert and easily handed him over to the police. Who then put him in a box, that being, as far as I can tell, the standard punishment for attacking women in that improv world. (Often, describing an improv show is like describing a dream -- "it made sense at the time.")

My friend Noah Gigex saw the show and was so taken with Mouse Beard Fred that he informed me after the show (informed -- not asked) that he would be making a cartoon character out of him. And it seems he has. And plastered him on a variety of Cafe Press merchandise.

Joey deVilla has this "theory that in the infinite set of universes -- the multiverse -- there was one particular universe in what happened to us right here was being watched as a TV show over there. We then made a solemn vow to live in such a way that we kept our ratings up." I think ratings are pretty high right now on the Fuzzy Show.