Unwanted Commentary

Nice weekend, busier than usual for someone of my social standing. I don’t think I could be a party to this level of excitement and activity every weekend, but as a once in awhile thing it’s alright.

Friday night I met the bunny at the local pub and celebrated/mourned the completion of the divorce process. As always bunny provided pleasant company, even while being forced to evacuate certain buildups from her cranial cavities. The girl and her toad showed up and joined us later that evening. I won’t say anything more about that as I feel the whiskey soaked words penned later that night realistically convey the emotions. Never-the-less, it was a fine time. Irish Coffee could prove to be addictive.

Saturday morning involved the regular swim, though after a certain point there was more conversation than actual swimming. This was noticed, even if the actual significance is more elusive. Later in the evening there was a geek party and it was good to be amongst that group again. Good to be able to discuss comics, science fiction, games and roleplaying with people who understand what you’re saying, and do it enthusiastically. I met X2’s new beau and that particular scenario perhaps had ramifications that I hadn’t wholly expected. After the party I stopped back in at the pub for more Irish Coffee and to give the Irish Rogues a good listen. I shan’t speak for the rest of the evening, and you shan’t speak to Trinity about it either; suffice it to say she deserves a Medal of Honor for friendship above and beyond. Suffice it to say I think some things were worked out of the system and I shall endeavor from now on to have healthier ways of expressing my angst.

Sunday was absolutely delightful. I somehow managed to escape the vile clutches of the hangover monster and, if you ever get the chance, I highly suggest eating Brother’s Chicken on the corner of Gaston and Fitzhugh(?); especially if the opportunity arises to do it on a beautiful (late) Sunday morning. I watched the last of the stragglers as they propelled themselves down the White Rock Marathon course, listened to the live entertainers that they had stationed along the path and generally enjoyed being outside. The band lacked any real skill, though they did play music after a fashion and that’s more than I can do.

I saw “39 Pounds of Love” with Carmina after a late lunch at the Taco Bar(?) over in the West Village(?). It was a film that I enjoyed, but I would be lying to myself I didn’t admit that technically it wasn’t very well made. For something that claims to be a documentary it came off as very staged and I couldn’t help but feel that they were milking the emotion just a little. Still, it had a good spirit to it and I would give it fairly solid recommendation. Seeing it with a pleasant friend, I think, helps.