This weekend was one of those long languorous weekends that seem to never end.
Of course they do end, though. That part sucks.
Friday night, Esteban did Esteban things. I ensconced myself on the sofa and watched AI, which I admired for ‘filmanship’, if nothing more. My college film professor’s voice kicked into overdrive as I admired many of the shots, but if I was noticing the way that they framed the robot within the overhead light to show his alienation from his ‘parents’, how freaking subtle was it? There was one shot that was just beautiful, though, even though it was completely ‘look at how Kubrick I am even though I’m Spielberg and have you SEEN Saving Private Ryan? Because that was a pretty good movie AND it had Tom Hanks in it sans Meg Ryan’ it was still pretty good though, doncha think? Hey! I’m making serious films here!&AO8AvwC9AO8AvwC9- there was a scene where the Jude Law character was watching David falling and his reflection appeared like a tear following down Jude’s face. Incredible. Even though I sort of expected them to open the robot up and then have William Hurt say, ‘It’s full of stars’ while strains of Strauss played on a tinny recording. But maybe that’s just me.
Saturday, we woke up rather early, as Mo called to see if I wanted to go shopping at some huge ‘blowout’ sale that a local department store has every other month. It was only until 11:00 a.m., thus she called at 8:30 a.m. I say, if a department store is going to be prejudiced against those of us who stay up too late and need the weekend to catch up on our sleep, fuck ’em. By the time I got up and called Mo back (I didn’t make it to the phone in time’ she’s so impatient), she was gone without me. Ah well. I took a shower and then jumped back into bed to warm my cold and wet body up against my furry warm husband. Yeah. I suck.
We went out to get some pancakes and then stopped by Ward and June’s place. Esteban’s truck had died in their driveway while he was there letting the doggies out to go winky, so he had to fix it. I popped in and learned that Ward and June were actually staying in Chattanooga the night before the big crash. We had been worried about that. They were all chatty and I had to drag myself away from them to do my many Saturday things.
I hate that our lives have become so full that our weekends are now filled with catching up. And we never get caught up. I use the term ‘we’ because I’m not so foolish to think that this only pertains to myself and Esteban, but rather it’s a symptom of how our society has changed. Sure, we have microwaves and scalding water which comes out of faucets and little tabs to dump into our toilet tanks to keep them clean, but at what cost. Our standards are higher. Our clothes are all spotless and perfect. Not that I’d have it any other way, mind you. Caroline Ingalls had a pitiful existence, in my opinion. And she didn’t have a Prescriptives counter to make her feel all blemish-free and even-toned. She certainly didn’t have drive-thru Starbucks either.
I miss Starbucks Guy. sigh
I ran around town, dropping a bunch of shirts to be laundered, running to the local mass merchandiser to pick up a plethora of oddities that keep our world sparkling and fresh, such as Listerine, hair gel, and Oatmeal Raisin Iced Power Bars. Then I tried to go to the car wash to remove the dead Georgia bugs from the front of my car, but the line was beyond my patience level. Then I tried to go to the Express Lube place, but it seemed moot without having a clean car so I went home instead. I had barely gotten home when Esteban popped in, with a fixed truck, and declared that he was taking the truck to get washed and lubed. I sighed and warned him about the line. He shrugged and went anyway, returning nary twenty-five minutes later. I gave him a puppy dog look, complete with pouting lip, and asked if he would mind doing my car as well. He did and there was much rejoicing.
When he returned, we received a call from Joel asking if we wanted to meet them in Appleton to go to our favorite Mongolian joint. Score. I had been hungry for something but I couldn’t quite place it and apparently, it was lamb satay. And I needed more Body Butter and the nearest Body Shop is in Appleton. We jumped up and scurried into the sparkling Monte (which STILL has bugs on the grill’ I think I have to take it back into the hand job place’. Curses those men with their love of automation). There was a thirty minute wait, so we hung out in the bar. Joel brought me a Rum & Diet Coke which had so much rum in it that it was actually somewhat clear. He told us about how he wanted to get a 90-mile an hour snowmobile and I asked him why he didn’t just go the easy route by standing up, unzipping, and whipping it out so that everyone could see how big it was. And then we laughed and laughed. I got a little laughing high from it, which I now recognize is a precursor to a laughing faint. Good times.
Dinner was marvy. We made plans to go back to Joel and Cheri’s phat pad and watch an illegal copy of Lord of the Rings. Joel had to go to some computer place where the copy was stored and burn disks or something, so I drove Cheri back and Joel and Esteban went and bonded with the computer dorks that live at the ISP. Finally, they returned and we nestled into their state of the art home theatre room with the system that costs more than my fucking car off the assembly line and ate freshly baked cookies. The copy was a reviewer copy and was pretty sweet, with exquisite colors. No Pseudonym Scott stopped by, a little tipsy because Phil had a gig on Saturday and Scott had been hanging out at the bar’ which was a microbrew, I believe’ dangerous combination. He proceeded to giggle and laugh and generally crack me up. I love me some Scotty G’. especially drunk off his ass. Oh, and the fact that I think Orlando Bloom is one damned sexy elf thing became public knowledge. It was a dorky way to spend a Saturday night, but I had fun.
Today, I have done nothing. Nothing. Nothing. If it were not for the fact that I was sick of Power Bars, I wouldn’t have left the house, but I got hungry for rotisserie chicken after reading a rather sumptuous article in Real Simple about how great it is. The first grocery store I went to, in the snooty suburb, didn’t apparently have it, so I instead went to the larger upscale grocery right by my house, where I knew that they had rotisserie chicken. They were out. I could have gone to another store, but I decided that for something that was supposed to be a convenience food, it was a really big pain in the ass and a simple peanut butter sandwich would be fine. I watched Jeepers Creepers, which had to be taken in small doses because it was just too freaky. If I hadn’t started it as early in the day as I did, I would have had to put it in the freezer tonight in order to fall asleep. But then it got stupid, so I was able to finish it. Holy crap, though’ the beginning’ gahhhh!!!!
I think I’m getting too old for the scary movies. Things hurt too much. I have too much sympathy for the characters. I was getting all upset about this one guy who got killed. They showed his hands as he was being murdered; him dropping a gun and a flashlight, and all I could think was ‘Oh, and such a handsome man’ he probably has a family.’ That’s just not right. I think the night that we watched Schindler’s List followed by Reservoir Dogs ruined me for slash and dash movies forever. It was the end of an era.
On a plus note: I got more Nut Body Butter! And some kind of exfoliating sugar stuff. And chamomile makeup remover. Woohoo! Goodbye dry yucky skin, hello satiny silky curves!
As God as my witness, I will eradicate my itty bitty thigh pimple things if it’s the last thing I do.
Sometimes, I am astounded by how fucking shallow I am.
