We had a Tara dog weekend. On Saturday we had agreed to participate in our friend Jenz's photo project, a collection consisting of a variety of bathtub shots. While i was initially worried i was going to photographed in some compromising positions, we instead decided to complement Jenz's spread with shots of Tara in the tub. So we packed her into the car and drove up to Jenz's friend's apartment in the Richmond. Tara got a little stir crazy after about 40 minutes in the car, while we were driving up Sunset and across the park. But she made it and immediately acquainted herself with the new people at the photo shoot. And set about eating any errant food she could find on the floor, which was not uncommon in the college apartment. She was a bit peeved when the time to be photographed came, as to her knowledge she hadn't agreed to be bathed when she hopped into the car. But she came out smelling much better. As the rest of us relaxed watching Rat Race on Comedy Central, Tara decided she wanted to explore this strange new city. So i hooked up her leash and took her out for a walk. We started walking towards the ocean from the apartment on 40th and Geary, and decided to cut into Sutro Heights Park. The dog was thrilled to mark new territory, and i got to wander around the beautiful seaside haven. We returned to Veronica forty minutes later and drove our trio over to Naomi's boyfriend Phil's apartment in the slightly-less-outer Richmond. He graciously put up with our canine companion, and we whiled away the evening having Indian takeout and watching movies. We viewed Phil's DVD of Mirrormask, the very entertaining and visually enthralling fantasy film by the late Jim Henson's production company. It bears a lot of thematic similarities to Henson's puppet-centric Labyrinth, although without freaky David Bowie villains. We then switched over to cable and watched Rob Zombie's horror tribute House of 1000 Corpses on the Independent Film Channel. It wasn't bad, although i didn't find myself (a notorious scaredy cat) particularly frightened. Perhaps it was the presence of Office loon Dwight K. Schrute.

I woke up around 9am Sunday and set to work creating a long overdue user's manual for an image processing application i wrote a few years ago, which is seeing renewed use for several applications. While typing on my laptop and as Veronica slumbered, i got to watch the Seahawks/Rams game, one of few NFL games i've seen this season. A great suspenseful contest, going from the Rams dominating the first half to a complete, unexpected turnaround by the Seahawks in the second, to a final two minutes that saw two lead changes, including a game winning field goal by Seattle as the clock expired. Veronica arose later and we headed over to my parents for dinner. Again with the Tara dog in tow. We had a nice meal, catching up while watching another underwhelming Raiders performance against the Broncos in Denver. Tara spent the evening terrorizing my parents' cats, particularly the skittish grey Petri.

Speaking of Bowie, we watched the conclusion of the two part Venture Bros. season finale on Sunday night. In the first part the Monarch attempted to turn Dr. Girlfriend into Dr. Wife, despite beau Phantom Limb's objection. The climax was arguably the best Venture Bros. episode ever. Between Dean's psychotic break and fantasy trip into the Neverending Story, David Bowie's duel with Phantom Limb's goons Iggy Pop ("Now you're gonna be my dog!") and Klaus Nomi, and the less-than-impressive show of strength of the Order of the Triad, this episode had everything. Including the wittiest array of references yet. Klaus Nomi? Atreyu? "Great shot kid! That was one in a million!"? Do Doc Hammer and Jackson Publick know me?

I also got to watch another Chelsea match, this time the Premiership duel with Reading that aired live on Fox Sports World on Saturday morning. In the first 30 seconds of the game, the brilliant Czech/Blues keeper Petr Cech was stretchered off after taking a vicious knee to the head while taking a ball from the feet of Reading midfielder Stephen Hunt. I thought it looked an accident, although Hunt may be guilty of being a bit overzealous in his pursuit of a ball that was clearly Cech's. In came backup keeper Carlo Cudicini, a world-class goalminder in his own right. And in the last minute of second half stoppage time with Chelsea protecting a 1-nil lead, Cudicini was bodyslammed in midair by Reading defender Ibrahima Sonko, hitting the turf hard. He was out cold and also had to be stretchered off. With Chelsea out of substitute keepers and having used all three subs anyway, skipper John Terry came into goal for the final minute of play. What a horror show. The next day Chelsea reported Cech had a fractured skull and would be out of the squad for a while. Cudicini had a mild concussion and should return shortly, although not in time for the critical Champions League encounter with Barcelona tomorrow. The Blues management is now accusing Reading of everything short of having beaten Petr's head with a hammer. In typical Chelsea fashion. Silly. If this fosters a discussion of how to better protect goalkeepers, then fantastic. But i think it's ridiculous and vindictive of Chelsea to demand punishment against Reading for actions that were most likely freak accidents. Best wishes to Petr and his family. And let me be the first to say that having Carlo back in goal will be great. Hopefully third-choice keeper Hilario (a name that never fails to make me smile) will hold the fort against Barça.

On the positive Chelsea tip, i have to say that my new Adidas hooded sweatshirt is among my favorite articles of clothing. As Charlie Brown once said, happiness is a new sweatshirt on a cold Saturday morning.

V and i have a concert dilemma this Thursday. We've got tickets for indie giants Yo La Tengo's first of three shows at the Fillmore, but Danish noise pop outfit Mew are playing Popscene. Doh. We're trying to swap our YLT tickets for the Saturday show, but if that fails then we're hoping that the Hoboken trio will be done by 11pm, allowing us to race across the city to 330 Ritch. That would be my second trip to Popscene in as many weeks, having seen the lovely Lily Allen perform last Thursday. Is it 1995?

I'm off to Philadelphia in a few weeks for the annual ASTRO meeting, then back to the Bay Area for a few weeks and Thanksgiving, then back east to Chicago for the enormous RSNA annual conference. I'm looking forward to finally having an authentic cheesesteak in Philly, having been denied my last time there in 1999 by a stomach bug. Albeit brought on by two consecutive nights of excessive eating (including a gorging at an all-you-can-eat crab place) and, of course, drinking. And while in the windy city i will be making time to catch up with old friend and former Pete drummer Bill W. Racking up the frequent flier miles, i am. Unfortunately i'm using them up just as fast now that the lure of upgrading to first class has taken hold of me.

I find myself caring less and less what the NME has to say about bands these days. Which is why i can't explain how i came to be so enamored of the Horrors, the much-bandied Cramps-infused goth/punk UK quintet. Their debut single Sheena is a Parasite is a head-nodding organ-filled rave-up, with a disturbing video directed by Chris Cunningham. I've gobbled up their latest self-titled ep, and am now waiting impatiently for an album. Aaron Popscene, how about signing them up for a show?

By the way, i didn't really listen to two hours of the Orb the other day. The curse of "leaving iTunes playing while going out to lunch" strikes again.