Three-day weekends are like gold for the working world. In school, I didn't notice them so much, but now. Now I realize the importance of them. How wonderful they are, what they can do for the spirit. Since my next two three-day weekends are sucked up by people who don't seem to realize the importance of the three-day weekend and chose to use those weekends to get married and screw their guests out of a much deserved extended weekend (I still love you, you know), I needed to make the most of three days belonging completely to me this weekend.
Friday: I worked until maybe 6:30, then Tommy and I went to Minsky's on 39th Street for pizza. He ordered the seafood special, me pepporoni and mushroom. The seafood was okay, but it felt weird to bite into crab meat in the midst of cheese and crust. Tom had to explain to me that it was crab and not shrimp. After, we walked around 39th street and discovered a new store had opened, an art gallery features all sorts of art work from various local artists. I bought a cute pair of earrings made by Mary Beth Gardos. The sales clerk, a man in his 60s wearing glasses like Bunsen, put my earrings in a mini-paper bag, which reminded me of the bags we put French fries and pizza burgers in at the VD.
Saturday: I promised Tommy I'd call him at 8:30 (a.m.) to go to the River Market; he finally called me at 10:00 to see what had happened to me. I had slept through my alarm clock. We went to the Farmer's Market, which was insane. Swamped with people enjoying the warm temps and the joy of knowing that they, too, were on a three-day weekend. After much looking, Tommy bought pumpkin bread from the Mennonites for me. We ate at Cafe al Dente, where I got grumpy and Tom kept his prescription sunglasses on. I ate chicken alfredo while Tom had two pieces of garlic bread. After eating, we walked into an antique store, which had all sorts of unimaginable crap, including a fake (left) leg suspended from the ceiling, selling for $65. After the River Market, we went to Westport, walking through Pryde's Old Westport, and ending up at Harlings to listen to jazz. This old woman, who had a gray, ratty ponytail, wore a faded T-shirt with no bra and was obviously a chain smoker, sang like Billie Holiday. After several hours listening to jazz, Tom dropped me off. I watched Y Tu Mama Tambien (which made me feel rather dirty), and then later Tom and I ate at Fuddruckers. I had a cookies 'n' cream shake.
Sunday: I drove to Liberty and watered Brett and Allison's garden. Sat in their house and watched Trading Spaces for a while, then picked some stuff up from Target. Spent the rest of the day watching Project Runway on Bravo! while making random trips to the Plaza. Sara called, and we decided to attend the Memorial Day event at the Liberty Memorial. Sara, Jacob, Tom, Baikie, and I loaded into the car and headed to Union Station. After hiking up a massive hill, we found ourselves in front of Union Station, listening to the KC Symphony. Around 9:30, the fireworks started. When a man pulled up in a white, rusted-out van, and abandoned it in the middle of the crowd, we got nervous. The man looked normal but, as Tom pointed out, so did Timothy McVay. The van sat there, unattended for 10-minutes. Finally, we moved, and Jacob told a security guard about the van. It was bizarre. We then went to Fred P. Otts and drank beer. The Parrott Bay girls showed up and Sara got leid. Two bands played; the first one wasn't very good, while the second one was decent. Their lead singer looked like a lumberjack.
Today: Did a massive cleaning of my apartment. My bathroom floor was all sticky from my hairgel. I am pissed: once again, the hairgel I use for my curly hair is being discontinued. Read a little, watched Coffee and Cigarettes in fast-forward with the subtitles on, and then walked to The Plaza's movie theater and watched The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. When the movie was over, I went to the bathroom. The woman in the bathroom started talking to me, asking me what I had thought of the movie. We had an entire conversation while washing our hands and left the restroom together. I think she felt sorry for me. This once again goes to prove that I cannot have a normal experience when going to the movies by myself.
1 comment:
I miss our movie trips!
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