Last weekend represented the best weekend I’ve had in a while…completely unlike two weekends ago, when the city had a super weird vibe and I was convinced there was a zombie epidemic going on. You know, where you drive around and everything is totally off and you’re pretty sure some weird shit is going down right behind you? So you can’t see it but it’s right there. Look behind you! Like Shaun of the Dead, you know? We’d drive down Broadway and people would be getting attacked and eaten like two intersections behind us…I bet. I can’t prove it, but I maintain things were majorly off…and my solution for this was getting majorly liquored up (I know, my brilliance astounds me). I was all, “Fuck this! If the world’s going zombie/uh…weird on us, I’m not going to be sober to watch it happen!”. And lots of strange things happened after I made this decision (after seeing the unfortunately not as funny as the original Harold & Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay)–it’s all a drunken blur of downtown choads and long-haired waiters and appetizers and big furry scarfs and slutty boots–and we finally ended up at the The Bank, the weird ass lame bar down the street. It reminds me of bars from my little farm hometown circa 1998 (and my hometown is currently right around the rest of the world circa 2002)…so that shit is pretty fascinating (how does a Denver bar fall behind bars from my hometown, which is already at least 5 years behind everything else? It’s a mystery). I kind of let the zombies win on that one.
Plus it’s no secret I’ve been really bored with Denver lately (sorry lovely da da Denver; you know I really love you, right?). Last weekend, however, completely refreshed me and made me appreciative of this great city again (truly great, by the way. Sure, I was born in state and all, but Denver would still be my third choice US city to live in if I hadn’t been born in Colo-the-RAD-o (heh, I’ve been way lame today…but whatever, I’m sleepy and choosing to embrace it).
Anyway, here are some of the highlights from last weekend:
- I bowled a 140, bitch! And I haven’t been bowling in ages. First game was a 117, which is also pretty amazing for me, then came the magnificent 140 (aw shucks, I nearly cried in ecstasy…yeah, that’s a lie, you’re right). I totally whipped all the people in the lanes surrounding us, boys included (though I got second in my group both times because two different guys beat me by like four pins each time in some sort of fluke…stupid, stupid boys). My scores are also remarkable considering my ball never went more than 9.4 mph (I have this weird way of bowling where my ball starts out rolling the normal speed on the release and then it slows way down and tiptoes toward the pins and everyone falls asleep and then wakes back up and curses at me and flips me off and then falls asleep again and then….fuck, she rolled a strike?! The ball was barely rolling! That shit’s fantastic!!! She should go pro!!! Ask anyone; that’s exactly what happens. Anyway, we went bowling at Elitch Lanes, which had a very nice vibe (I’d been meaning to go there for the longest time but, as usual, was failing at life). I felt way more comfortable there than at most bowling alleys…where, have you noticed, people can be really weird? The last time I went bowling I was doing really well but then this like 35 year old guy showed up to bowl with his mom in the lane next to us and it appeared as though he still lived at home and he also appeared to be quite revolting and they had their own balls and all, which would make one believe they were good bowlers, but then they really sucked. It was kind of sad…but, you know, also funny. Anyway, the icky guy kept staring at me and I could feel his beady eyes on my ass every time I got up for my turn (and yes, ladies, if you didn’t know, guys like to use the bowling thing as an excuse to check out your sweet ass butt (ass as adjective, butt as butt)…according to my brothers, it’s an excellent first date test of hotness), and so I’d just chuck my ball all hurriedly so I could go slink down in my seat, as far away from pathetic douche as possible. And the guys I was with were all like, “What’s your deal? You were doing so well and now you’re not even trying” and I’d pout and such…not cool, I say. Elitch Lanes had some drunken choads, sure, but it was a zillion times better than that shit. Plus I got to drink…a hard lemonade. That shit was lame (and made me feel like I was at a horrible high school party), but I was already drunk and I just wanted something that didn’t taste like alcohol and that was the best I could do there. They have like amazingly cheap bowling nights and their Friday deal is all incredible as fuck so I think I’m going to be doing tons of drunken bowling this summer (who knows? If I can get my speed over 10 mph I might really be able to go pro! That would be the awesomest thing ever).
- We tried out this new restaurant on Saturday before heading to Elitch Lanes and its menu had one of those trendy and vaguely snooty yet awesome things where they’ll have affordable “Small Plates” and super expensive “Large Plates.” And the small plates are basically side dishes I can mix and match in whichever way I choose and it’s completely acceptable. Like I go to a Village Inn and order a side of broccoli and a side of mashed potatoes and a strawberry shake and everyone will probably think I’m a weirdo picky dimwit slutty (why slutty? I don’t know either) annoying freak of a person…whereas I do the same thing at a semi-fancy place where the shit is under “Small Plates” instead of “Side Dishes” and no one bats an eye. At worst, they act as though it’s incredibly endearing and adorable…which I’m cool with. So I got charred edamame and a baked potato, which totally complimented the place’s awesome awesome awesome Tangtini! It has fucking Tang in it! With vodka and triple sec and sprite! And the rim was lined with Tang! That shit tasted amazing; new favorite drink hands down. Oh and for dessert? Rice crispy treats with M&Ms and Fruity Pebbles (not all in one; there were like three of each kind) and there was this amazing marshmallow cream on top…muy delicioso. And the staff was very cool and took to us like butter (meaning: wanted to have sex with us, as usual) and our waiter was asking us what we were doing after and we said we were going bowling at Elitch Lanes and he said he was in the restaurant league. Which is way cool; I have this fantasy of seeing all my favorite service industry employees across the city bowl against each other….hmm, I’m getting all hot and bothered even thinking about it.
- I bought a new bikini with anchors all over it. They finally filled the pool at my apartment and all us residents went “hooray!” and I went to buy a swimming suit I’d had my eye on for a while. And it was awesome because they only had one left in my size…but then Eric spied this anchor one and begged me to get it instead. Because the anchor is one of my many adopted symbols…for some weird reason or another. I don’t know when or why it really happened, but it did (and I once upon a time wanted to get a pink tattoo of an anchor that would barely be visible just so I could fuck with people’s minds). Anyway, the anchor one was cute (all baby blue and baby pink like), and it had little anchors all over the bottoms and over the left boob…but then there was one giant anchor over the right boob. Which I thought was really cool…until I noticed the thing was covered with rhinestones. And then I was like, “Uh…my boobs are not rhinestone boobs” (they’re classy tits, they are) and Eric was like, “No, you can pull it off. It’ll be cool…come on, come on, come on, come on, pretty pretty please” (in essence)…and whatever, I finally relented. They actually aren’t rhinestones, but studs…which is slightly less trashy I suppose. We’ll see if I can totally pull it off or whatever. Meh, bikinis are cheap; I’ll probably go get the other one soon (my size better not be gone…or else). I’m all too excited about the California adventure so I have a feeling I’m going to go nutty on buying shit for it. Because I have this image of lazing about a beach in all my cute bikinis…with all my animal figurines surrounding me (that’s right; they’re totally coming with!)! Those Cali choads won’t know what hit ‘em.
- We went and saw the new David Mamet film Redbelt. I was really into The Spanish Prisoner in high school, mostly because I was all fascinated by Steve Martin’s serious side (though that now seems like his normal persona in my head, considering all his writings I’ve read since then), and I normally don’t really like the “playwright turned filmmaker” thing (see, for instance, Neil LaBute’s godawful and pretentious The Shape of Things…even the insane charms of Paul Rudd couldn’t save that shit), but I happen to like Mamet. His stuff still seems play-like, but in a good way. Like he gets actors to say things entirely differently (is it with the phrasing or something? It’s longer, like Shakespeare) and…I don’t know, I really like what he does with the actors and the sound in his films. It’s all very deliberate and nice somehow. Anyway, I really liked Redbelt. Everything didn’t exactly add up in the end, but it was good taken as a whole and it left a nice impression that’s only grown since seeing it. Plus there were super awesome previews before it (we’ve been seeing a lot of commercial movies lately so I’ve been exposed to the same shitty previews over and over…all hail the return to independent film!), one of which was for The Fall, a film that appears to have been made in 2006 but is finally getting released here this year. It appeared to be the most insanely beautiful looking film I’ve ever seen from the preview. Incredible, insanely ambitious visuals (my mouth actually seemed to drop open in amazement while watching it…and I’m a hard person to impress, believe it or not). And the story looks good too. The director is the guy that directed The Cell, a film that scared the shit out of me (I can’t think of a more appropriate premise to show the most disturbing images possible…thankfully I can’t remember most of them because I had to block it all from my mind in order to ever get any sleep again)…so that kind of concerns me. Like sometimes I’ll see some visuals that are only vaguely scary and really, I’ll totally appreciate them and their beauty and all, but then they’ll show up in my nightmares out of context and be upsetting as hell. And I could see this happening with shit from The Fall, but I’m trying to be brave and not a pussy about it all. I’m still really looking forward to seeing it when it comes out.
- My adorable, lovely, awesome parents (yes, I’m one of those weirdos that gets along with their parents) made the trek to Denver and the fam went out for brunch on Sunday in honor of Mama’s Day. My family is cool and this made me happy.
- Our friend was taking off for New Mexico for the summer for an internship and so we hung out late Sunday night in a very deserted downtown Denver. And I’m not normally a downtown sort of girl (it mostly being choad central and all) but it’s actually pretty nice when it’s all deserted. Kind of Gotham City like and all that. And I’ve decided I need to start staying out late and doing crazy shit on nights before my workdays, because I’m sick of feeling like I only have a life on the weekends. That stuff is mega lame…so I’m just gonna kill myself from exhaustion and do whatever I feel like doing during the week. Um…hell yeah?
- We went to our regular spot on Friday (of the Consumer Sex post) and I was feeling all kind of unloved by the world and vaguely depressed by the end of last week (I’m not sure why, really; probably a combination of listening to too much Richard & Linda Thompson (Shoot Out the Lights and Pour Down Like Silver) and something hormonal), so a trip to that restaurant was just what I needed. The hostess lit up in ecstasy when we came through the door, two of our favorite waitresses waved all excitedly at us, one of the barbacks talked us up during our meal, and we gained a new waitress fan. And that night I had a bizarre nightmare in which a waitress from the restaurant accused me of stealing this modeling agency business card from her (uh…I seriously have no idea where that came from). And she called me “prissy” and everyone at the restaurant turned against us and hated me. It was upsetting and I finally realized I should be more appreciative of the love we receive there, and not all embarrassed by it. Because it’s nice to go there; it makes us feel like we’re on Cheers (only no one actually knows our names…but hey, they know our faces). I was happy when I woke up on Saturday and realized they still liked us there. Good people, nice times.
So yeah, it was a pretty decent weekend. Now I’m gonna go fold my laundry and get ready for another grand (hopefully) weekend. Here’s hoping I get more than two hours of sleep tonight (as I did last night; I felt way shitty all day long…aided by my drinking a giant peach tea this afternoon at work to keep me awake and then dealing with a sickly, uneasy, sweet, sloshy feeling in my tummy for the rest of the day and evening as a result. Oh and one of my ears has been plugged up and I’ve been trying to un pop it by yawning, but every time I try to yawn I feel as though I might throw up and so I have to close my mouth…and ew and such). Have I mentioned I suck at life lately? Yeah, well.
I'm a writer, music freak, pop culture critic-at-large, natural born lover, and professional crayon drawer.
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