Last night on the local news there was an interview with one of the lesser Osmonds (Adam? Alan? I can't remember all their names) in which he shared his reaction to the 'shocking' news of Michael Jackson's 'tragic' and 'untimely' passing. He also waxed nostaligic about the good old days when The Jackson 5 and The Osmonds were first getting started and sharing a tour circuit. There was talk of how well Donny and Michael got on together; the phrase "best of friends" was bandied about loosely.
At the thought of Donny Osmond and Michael Jackson alone in a room together, I couldn't help myself, my mind just bogled. If I were a slash fiction writer I'd be all over that action. It would be very King Phillip/Richard III in The Lion in Winter, only I'd be hard pressed to decide which should be the love sick school boy and which should be the contemptuous seducer. Either way, Michael's enduring devotion to military fashion motifs would be the obsessive homage to the fantasy games he used to play during his tawdry brush with Mormon sexual repression.
It was an awesome interview. Brother Osmond's hair was badly dyed and he called Orem the bestest place in all of YOU-tah. How I've missed the local news.
Being home has been pretty great so far. I had the bloodiest, juiciest, saltiest, fleshiest steak EVER just days after landing, and knew instantly that it was worth the $6,000 dollars and 26 hour trek it took to get here for it.
Mostly we're just swimming, shopping, and eating. Not much time for blogging in between. I'll check in every now and then, but honestly, I wouldn't be for expecting much from me over the next five weeks or so. If I have anymore steak, I'll be sure to take the time to tell you about it though. Honest to God--it's just. that. good.