Oh, the weekend.
It was good. It was full of the usual shenanigans: eating too much sushi (this time at a new place [well, new to us, anyway], Sushi Studio), which was AH-MAZING, blah blah blah. Eating too much of everything else (Eggs, Etc., Belmont Brewery, Ugo, and so forth), watching things (The Happening [DON'TWASTEYOURMONEY], and also, the trees? The trees are killing us? Puh-leeze. I think Al Gore just spit up on himself), oh, (and a documentary on Christo & Jeanne Claude's umbrellas, which were beautiful and looked like little poppies),
Uh. Right, so that paragraph? The one just before this one? I'm sorry, every reader of this blog, and every person who had to suffer through hours of interminable English and grammar classes, and especially to you, Mike Posey, for whom grammar isn't just a passion, it's your job.
But okay. The weekend, suffice it to say, was good, and long, and HOT. A lot of food was consumed. At one point Holé Molé ran out of ice. Also, pigs flew and the sun exploded.
On Friday night, I found myself sitting alone on my couch, alone in my living room, alone in my house, alone in Long Beach, alone in THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD since the whole entire world (or at least my whole entire world) was precisely elsewhere, that is, somewhere I wasn't, and they weren't planning on returning anytime soon. Jess was gone. Ash, Jodes, Jeff, Adam, Josh, and Jon were out of town. Mike was cleaning (or being antisocial or WHATEVER). Jess, Janelle, and Tyler were otherwise occupied. I tell you: No ONE was around.
So I sat for a bit.
Then I moved from the black couch to the white couch. Sat. Laid. Sat in a different position. Braided my hair.
Moved back to the black couch.
WHY is it so frick pissing hot in the living room? why? WHY?
I watched "When Harry Met Sally." You go, Sally. Yeah, that's right. Guys and girls can TOTALLY be friends. Wow, Meg Ryan, that is some feathered hair, girlfriend. The world must look so hazy and pleasant when you view it through a vignetted fringe of feathered bangs. It's like having the soft focus thrown on life. Also, Harry, dude. The scene with the power walkiing and the itty-bitty leggings? Ay yay YAY.
Movie over. Texted Jessica: Ok I am SO BORED right now. No one is home. No one is around. And it's hot. I'm going a little bit crazy.
Watched a bit of Seinfeld. Oh, this IS the best episode ever written! The one where Jerry and Elaine are on a flight, and Jerry is in first class, and Elaine is in coach--Elaine, my friend, I KNOW HOW IT GOES. The middle seat. I KNOW.
Texted Jessica again: No seriously. Going out of my mind with boredom here.
Unbraided my hair. Moved to the other couch. Watched more Seinfeld.
Texted Jessica, yet again: Also, it's 84 degrees in my room right now. Did I mention that I am alone in Long Beach right now? Just me and some spiders.
Turned the fan on high. Turned the fan on medium. Turned the fan back to high. Tossed and turned a bit.
Went to sleep.