Well, something, either hormones or delayed onset hangover or a virus or, my personal top suspect, Dragon China takeout (damn you, Dragon! You may have won this time but I'll be back! No, wait, I won't. I really, really won't.) laid me utterly low today with the kind of miserable intestinal symptoms you don't want to read about and I don't want to be experiencing. Suffice it to say that I have spent the day in bed, sleeping and having weird as hell dreams and watching episode after episode of Robin Hood on Audrey's laptop. I don't even like this version of Robin Hood - the relatively new one from the BBC - all that much: the only guy in it who is passingly adorable is Guy of Gisbon and I can't have a crush on Guy of Gisbon, I just can't. I have therefore ordered discs of the early 80s British Robin Hood from Netflix, because as I recall, all those Merry Men were smoking hot and also had druids, Celtic gods, a vaguely new age soundtrack and a fog machine, all things sadly lacking from the new rendition.
Spent the weekend having entirely too much fun, which is why this malaise may just be a delayed hangover from hell. On Friday we went out to dinner at Sadie's Seafood Pub. I was kind of dubious about this place but lo, it turns out to be very good and totally affordable and everyone there was cute and nice and the oysters and mussels were out of this world. That was all good and then Charlie and I stayed up way too late drinking beer and talking so it wasn't until like 7:30 the next night that we ventured out into the rain and the new West Fest which isn't WestFest exactly but something else very similar to WestFest but in my neighborhood instead of over by Vermont Avenue. However, just as is the tradition with WestFest, it was totally rained on, so it is good something stays the same. It was actually a lot of fun hanging out in the rain drinking rum and taking pictures; eventually we ended up at the Admiral where we ran into Jodi and Dillon and the evening went on, as it does.
In other news, I'm still unemployed - hard to apply for jobs when you're lying around in bed moaning - and April is just ticking out its last few days. Oh and I have broken up with the Patton Avenue K-Mart for good. No, really, I mean it this time. Patton Avenue K-Mart, you are dead to me now! Nevermore shall I darken your door! Nevermore will your blue light specials inveigle me, no more shall I purchase from you socks and sundry other useful items, no, it cannot be, because K-Mart has broken up with Martha Stewart and when you break up with Martha, baby, you break up with me. I went over there to get Martha Stewart seeds, specifically, her purple green beans and white pumpkins, which are fabulous, as is her cosmos, and discovered from a taciturn individual in the garden department that K-Mart and Martha have had a falling out. I am saddened and this, K-Mart of the deadly insane parking lot, K-Mart that never has a goddamn thing, actually, that I want, is it for us.
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2 comments:
I had a love affair with K-Mart when they debuted the Martha Stewart Everyday line about the time I moved out on my own. But over the past few years, K-Mart has turned into a low-rent version of Wal-Mart, and with no more Martha {sniffle, pout}, I have no reason to shop there.
Yeah, K-Mart has gone right to hell over the last few years. I always liked K-Mart; it seemed somehow more authentic than Wal Mart, also, less evil, but now it's just as depressing as the dollar store and the prices aren't as good.
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