Where to start?

Good weekend all told. Some minor points of frass that I can get into in a different post, HOWEVER for starters:

Friday night was big-kid date night. Dorajar and I schmancied up and hit a schmancy restaurant for a nice dinner before hitting the MeeB theatre for a viewing of "Sid Pimple". A great show and a great throwback to all the old timey radio shows. The script was all right, but I enjoyed the hell out the overall show. BTW- you were wunnerful Redwright.

Sats a.m. was a callback for Ozmadouches. Ten. A. M. That’s early. Waaaaay early. I’m fairly certain I offended the hell outta people I don’t even know by throwing out a bullshit story on how I saw a production of "Amadeus" at a Montessori school, and that 3rd grade Hmong kid playing Salieri gave a POWERhouse performance. The Indian girl playing Mozart was okay…Nothing compelling…but an interesting take on the character. Intermission was early because Emperor Joseph had an excitable bladder and needed his pampies changed.

No. I didn’t get it. Moped did though (Congrats, darlin’) and she’ll be playing one of the Vermicelli. I have forewarned her that I will rename every character in the cast, whether it makes sense or not.

After drowning my sorrows in a lackluster bowl of vegan black bean chili, I headed out to BeeP’s to have a mow fest at the old place before heading back to Mi Casa for a little studying (napping). We stayed in (‘cause we po’) and watched "Garden State" while dining on Chinese Niblets. I decided that I was going to fall in love with Natalie Portman in this movie. Just this movie. Everything else I see her in is "meh". If you don’t believe me, watch the movie. Natalie’s character is just…that girl.

Sunday was a lazy bunk morning. We lounged and loafed over a.m. BM’s while I waited for my folks to poop over and help install a ceiling fan. ("How many member’s of the P-fam does it take to install a ceiling fan. Apparently all of them. And we still didn’t get that fucker in. Dammit.) We frassed over an unusually exciting Viking’s game. (Unusual because I don’t think they’ve had an exciting season since 1999-00) Dad yelled. Mom started work on my Spider-Man costume. That’s right. Made her feel good, too.

Rocky…pooped in my back yard and chased squirrels.

After swearing at the hole in my ceiling, the fam and Per-Per accepted an invite over to the slowly emptying WW ranch for niblets. It was such a trip to be able to have my family and my closest friends all in the same room, enjoying food, laughing, BS’ing. Honestly, in memory, I don’t think that I’ve had that happen in years. It was wonderful. I (me, that is) just shut up and tried to soak as much of it in as possible.

All while stuffing my face with ribeye, edamame/broccoli, and the grilled chicky boobs I had marinated. (BTW- This recipe is the bomb shite. If you don’t have Tumeric in your spice rack, get some.) http://barbeque.allrecipes.com/az/GrilldIndinChickn.asp

And that’s about that, Jack Sprat. I’ll frass some more later when and if I get some time, kimbo’s.

Peace out, playa’s…