If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home By Now

So, no soccer on Friday this week after work. You know what they say about idle hands. I managed to meet up with a friend for a drink after work. This shouldn't be a big deal, but it sure is nice to do every once in a while. It doesn't happen a lot anymore. I wore a pseudo-Friday night shirt and Friday night shoes so that I could go over to my bar that I like that sadly has turned into a nightclub of sorts on weekends. This means that I have to put on dress codeable attire. I have to admit that it does make me look more handsome. So, it may be a blessing in disguise.

By the way, these new Friday night shoes that I got are awesome. They are Kenneth Cole Reaction. I think the model is Punchual. They are super comfortable and have now become my official shoes of work. Comfy and cheap. That makes a good shoe.

So, hung out on the patio of my usual bar and was apparently doing a meet and greet with every late 20s early 30s single mom in the place. I'm not hating on breeders. I just found it weird. It was like someone had put them all up to it and I was the butt of some kind of elaborate practical joke. I'll admit, too, that the mom from Poland was super hot. Whatevs. Not dating or hooking up for a while.

Got home late Friday after counting tips with the bartenders and walking two of the cocktail waitresses to their cars so that we could all be robbed and assaulted together. Chivalrous, yes, but safe? No. A jacket over a puddle is one thing, but protecting two hot girls from whatever comes out of the dark at three in the morning is something completely different. I'm not calling myself a pussy. It's just that there were giant Samoan bouncers inside and they sent me out. The lesson learned is never make eye contact when someone asks for something.

So, Saturday morning I missed some pick up soccer in the morning and then sat there figuring out what to do. I decided I would get a burrito for lunch. That was my plan for the day. I went and got said burrito and even threw in a quesadilla because I was jonesing for one. The problem with the quesadilla is that it prevented me from being able to eat the burrito. These are the problems that I deal with on a daily basis.

I watched Deathproof in the afternoon. I was a little biased against it and I didn't want to like it, but wound up really caring for it. The soundtrack alone is worth the price of admission. I have to hand it to Tarantino, his soundtrack taste is impeccable and full of deep cuts. So, after Deathproof, I watched The Fountain. I really like Darren Aronofsky, but this movie was challenging. Themes of love, despair, and immortality. Conquistadors, monkeys and yoga bubbles. It's visually stunning and a cool movie, but a lot of it had me going "What the devil?" Went to bed at ten Saturday night.

Woke up confused about what time it was because my phone had autoupdated for Daylight Savings. I don't really observe Daylight Savings, but do respect those that do. I finally figured out that it was 7:30 AM for everyone else, but 8:30 for me so I jumped in the shower and started my Sunday ritual which consists of coffee and the paper. Starbucks Coffee was apparently not serving coffee on this particular morning. Seriously, why don't they just change their name to Starbucks froofy espresso drinks with whip cream, trinkets and baskets of Cranium games? Stick to the basics. They invented the 400% markup on a cup of coffee and then can't even manage to serve it. Fuck You, Starbucks! Fuck You all to hell for not having coffee on Sunday.

So, I went to the other Starbucks down the street and got coffee and the paper there. I'm a total ass hypocrite. I'm aware of this. I burned through one crossword puzzle in the pink section and then struggled with the second one for a little bit. Browsed the Target ad, the Best Buy ad, and the Cost Plus ad. I don't know why I browsed the Cost Plus ad; it's not one of my usual ads that I browse. Oh, wait, I got angry because the Christmas push was starting and Cost Plus had a bunch of Christmas crap on sale. I disagreed with that.

So, at Starbucks there were nothing but weirdos and I decided to leave and go buy a vacuum because I had been putting it off for months. Buying a vacuum is the most thankless fucking act in the human action palette. No Dyson. No special pet hair function. I just need something that didn't require a bag, was not too loud and could handle the twenty square feet that is my apartment. I got it and for those keeping score at home it is a Bissel Cleanview II Plus or something. I think it's a piece of shit, but I was using a hand me down that resembled the vacuum from Mr. Mom and that thing started attacking blankets and the kids in the movie. So, I upgraded out of fear more than anything else.

Because I can never have a typical Sunday ever, I got a call from one of the dudes on my rec league soccer team and they were watching a game in Palo Alto. I had to give him the team bag and some jerseys, so I swung by the field and then watched the game. I've been thinking about joining an all mens team and wanted to see the level of play. It looked like an injury league, but fun.

After the game finished we went to a pub and watched Ac Milan versus Inter and then the Patriots versus the Colts. We drank some beers. We had some ideas and weird conversations. Well, at least I did.

We were with a couple of refs from our weeknight league and I basically laid out every trick that I ever use and asked them how they could possibly call me on them. They said they could now that they knew what I was doing. They really did respect my heel to the groin move, though. I stole it from Wayne Rooney. After you collide with a guy, you get up and act dizzy and then fall backward and grind your heel into the guys NADSAQ. If you put your hands over your face at the same time, it's a real easy sell.

So, we talked about rec league soccer for probably way too long, but managed to come up with the idea of combining some players from various teams into a tournament team. At the time it sounded like some kind of Axis powers super soccer team and crazy, but this morning it just seems like a tournament rec league team. No biggy.

After that, I went out on the patio to smoke and ended up talking books with this dude for about a day. We ended up talking about Steve Erickson for a bit and then came up with the brilliant idea of a book club. Not like a book club of a bunch of women in their late 20s, early 30s, reading John Irving and Oprah recommendations, but an elitist and pretentious book club that is centered around Finnegan's Wake by James Joyce.

I totally lifted the idea from Tom Robbins, but whatever. At this bookclub, however, we never have to read Finnegan's Wake, you just need a copy of it to get in. Once you are in the bookclub, we just talk about whatever books we are reading and music that we are listening to whilst drinking beers in paper bags. I'll stick by that idea the morning after.

Finally, best idea of the day came late. I remembered this news article about celebrities and people of interest donating their hair to charity. It's a cool idea and fun activity. It got me thinking, though. Are there firemen out there without moustaches? Cops without moustaches? Gay dudes without moustaches? Do they not have them because they can't grow one? D'you see where I'm going with this? I could grow moustaches and donate them to people in need of them to fill a stereotype that they aren't living up to. Plus, I would get to grow a moustache. It's a win-win situation.

OMG, foot in the mouth quote of Sunday:

"Hey, your buddy's pretty fucked up, man."

"Oh, he isn't. He just has MS."


That's all for now.