The rest of the weekend, after the blood-letting, was pretty mellow. I fell prey to some as-of-yet unidentified stomach/head trouble that gave me the solid reasoning I'd been looking for to lie on the couch and watch cable all day. So there went Saturday. I was supposed to head up to San Francisco and hang out with Angie and Sabeen that night but around five I was still waiting for my peripheral vision to come back and thought that, perhaps, driving for an hour with impaired brain and innards might not be the best thing ever for public road safety. I’m sure I would have been able to react, like, thirteen seconds after someone braked quickly in front of me, but I’m almost certain that’s not an acceptable margin-of-response.
I’ve forgotten what happened on Sunday. Senility for the win! Marc arrived home after swilling about in the dirt and muck with some of his boys. There were mountain bikes and beer involved which is about as far as my understanding goes as to what they do on such trips. He assures me that there is no gay love, but I’ve seen the photos, and with that much spandex flying around, I’m unconvinced.
Monday was glorious. There was some sleeping in, some wine tasting. More wine tasting on our new patio. A walk that I don’t remember much of under the weight of all of that wine. Then we had dinner, which I thought would soak up some of the wine, but it didn’t. Whatever. I failed chemistry. Then, we saw a movie starring Christian Bale. I think it was Terminator, but honestly, I was so taken with his perfect bone structure, that the main plot points are still somewhat fuzzy in my head. There were robots that were anxious to blow shit up and some woman who’s hair managed to stay perfectly curled despite being under heavy fire, and then rain and then heavy fire again. And then she made out with a robot, which was cool because the robot was hot - I would have too, given the opportunity. But what I came away wondering was a) why is the future always so WET and DARK? And b) if this movie takes place 10 years from now, as the opening credits imply, we’re seriously fucked and should just cash in and go live in Hawaii. And c) why does future clothing require all of these straps and buckles? Won’t we all be swanning about in muu-muus or something more comfortable by then? Won’t we be wise enough to do away with obnoxious things like waist-bands and thong underwear? But perhaps in the future we’ll all have hair like that - that stays perfect, and shiny!, no matter what the circumstance. In which case, I might be talked into wearing complicated pants. But not a thong. I have to draw the line somewhere.
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2 comments:
real-men wear spandex. Regardless there is always shrinkage. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.
I don't remember much about Wolverine except the Hugh Jackmon naked and almost-naked parts. I am told that was about when the plot suffered. I didn't suffer, though, so I am not sure what people are talking about.
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