Weekend of Champions
This weekend I did a lot of things, including but not limited to:
--eating at a place in the city called La Pita Loca where the cartoon mascot wears what looks like a diaper made out of falafel. The whole restaurant was only about 12 feet by 30 feet, but it seemed a lot bigger because the ceiling was blasting fluorescent lights like the ones they'll use to backlight the second coming of Christ, and all the walls were covered with mirrors, which made it easy to stare at the guy in the corner with the price tag sticking out of the neck of the sweater he had just bought with the hoochie mama he was sucking face with, a woman who was clearly way more into blow jobs than the guy's wife.
--walking by Original Joe's in the Tenderloin, where Helen Jane was most likely celebrating her last day at work at that very moment. I did not press my nose up against the window like a stalker, but I did look extra hard as we passed by.
--seeing a guy in the lobby of the Warfield wearing a Blogger logo hoodie. I wanted to wink at him, like we were sharing a dirty secret, like "I know what you do." *wink wink* "I do it too."
--wondering on how many people the humor was lost that an entire auditorium of WASPy rich kids (aka "frat bitches") spent five whole minutes chanting "Satan is my motor" over and over and over again, pumping their fists in the air like an Army of the Unholy.
--marvelling at how tall frat bitches are these days. I was convinced we'd been let into the 6-feet-and-over-only section by mistake because we were compeltely surrounded by altitudinally gifted people, which means not only was it really hard to see the band, but it was also harder to ignore their rhythmically challenged dancing. Also, really tall people have really big heads.
Here's a picture of the average-height people I was with (although Ethan's pushing it at 6'1").
--wishing the only other short-ish person in our section hadn't been the drunk old lady who slammed her drunk old body into Azeem and then apologized by tweaking his nipple. Now, come on, in what universe is that okay?
--learning that although I like to sip scotch whisky, I do not like to shoot rye whiskey. A few ounces of that delivered to my stomach in one fell swoop is enough to bring me to my knees. Luckily, it was not to my knees at the foot of the porcelain god but to my knees in front of the tv, where I could watch Celebrity Poker Showdown.
--staying up so very late we absolutely couldn't find a place that would deliver pizza delivered to our door and instead had to go to the grocery store for a frozen one.
--sleeping in my clothes in someone else's bed.
--skipping breakfast and then brunching on an oversized teacup of milk and enough graham crackers to shingle the roof of a 4 bed/2 bath home.
--playing on the internet for five hours--with company! Among our diversions was listening to a dozen versions of the song "Grim Grinning Ghosts" on doombuggy.com, locating the house used as the exterior of the Salinger's home on Party of Five, reading about what happened at the Condor Club in 1983, and watching all the Bran Flakes videos. We also watched my screen saver for about an hour as it did a randomized slideshow of all the pictures I've taken in the last year. Somehow, wasting time with another person doesn't seem as wasteful as it really is.
--going in search of spaghetti and ending up having Korean food, narrowly avoiding having to eat chicken on my waffle. (Blame it on my having absolutely no Southern blood in my veins, but I just can't wrap my brain (let alone my mouth) around the whole waffle + chicken concept. It just seems wrong. Like corn pizza is wrong.)
--driving around Lake Merritt lit up at night, one of my favorite things to do--so much so that the activity now has its own song and dance.
--seeing The Incredibles at the Grand Lake and eating almost a whole box of licorice all by myself.
--wearing a pink sparkly tiara around town while the three of us sing at the tops of our lungs.
--napping in the late afternoon after a physically exhausting morning.
I also saw The Incredibles. I'm usually not one to go on and on about movies, so I won't start here.
Perhaps what made it great was the fact that it was the first time I got take-out sushi to eat during a movie. Or perhaps it was the fact that I had the world's sexiest date on my elbow. One or the other, who knows.
I'm glad you had fun this weekend, but you need to take a deep breath and relax about the corn pizza thing. It's OK, really, it's OK.