Stretchin' my legs...

Because I'm off the wagon.

As longtime readers may know, YHB has been barred from the tempations of sweet, sweet liquor for a couple years now due to abberant liver results. There was nothing actually 'wrong' with me, but my Dr. decided that I should no longer indulge.

Well, ladies and gentiles, I've come to the conclusion that my Doctor simply desires to deprive me of all the great pleasures of life. So, I return to my drinkin' ways.

Admittedly, that'll be a beer with occasional burritos, or a glass of Arak with dinner like this past weekend, but the sweet products of grape and grain will no longer be denied me!

A quick question

I teef this from kynn, because I am bad teef mon.

Why am I on your friends list?

Comment, then post this in your journal and see what people say about you.

A weekend in brief

Family oriented weekends are always fun. Saturday, Cynra & I... Hmm. I can't remember what we did in the afternoon, but I think there may have been vaccuming involved. We took in the 4 p.m. showing of Brick at the Cumberland, which is a nice old fashioned venue.

The film itself was very enjoyable. Fascinating to see a noir detective story set in a high school; thankfully, the performances are mostly strong enough to carry it off. For some reason the Pin seemed less impressive than he should have been; are the criminal masterminds in most noir supposed to come off as so very helpless? I should really watch some of the older noir films.

While it didn't seem to be played for laughs, on some occasions the combination of people who were too young to vote with hardened bravado turned out to be a bit much for me to take completely seriously. And the kingpin's muscle threatening the hero with a vicious beating with a pitcher painted to look like a rooster clenched in his hands just pushed me over the edge, but the film quickly got back on track. Cynra enjoyed it too.

Dinner was a trial. I'd originally planned for dinner of Cynra & myself, Mater & Pater, and Uday & the Lt. Then, Uncle Bill & his wife and my cousin and his wife were coming, so we upped it to 10.

Anyway, Cousin and wife gave birth, so they were out, Aunt & Uncle were sick, so they were out. So, still, table of 6. Which you wouldn't think would be that hard.

Oh, dear friends, you'd be sadly mistaken. It appears that the party of ten for 6:10 arrived and had a name suspiciously like YHB's. Which is shocking, considering they looked very non-semetic. But I grouse. In any case, the party of 6:10 for 10 get our table, and their table is given away. So who gets fucked? YHB & family get fucked.

To put it mildly (which I understand I've something of a talent for) YHB was pissed off. Enraged. Angry, even. Which seems odd, since I too work in the mines of Customer Service.

But, you see, I work in a large, faceless corporation. With no malice, all errors the fault of faulty logic circuits. The Maitre'd in front of me? The self same motherfucker who found it within his heart to give my table to someone else. So, yeah. I raged. I fumed. I gnawed on my shield.

Eventually, of course, our table was ready. Huzzah! Only 25 minutes late! We ordered the platter for two and the platter for four, and once again found that the stewed garlic tomatoes are to die for, and you get waaaayy too much food. And I had some sweet liquor.

Cynra & I dragged ourselves home (we took her Civic instead of Supercar since we thought we'd be driving the folks, so gas was wasted! Booo!) and crashed for the night. I swear, you'd think I had a gastric bypass or something, the way I can't handle a little gluttony.

The next day was spent tidying up the house in anticipation of the parents arrival with Uday & the Lt. for dinner. I whipped up greek salad with chicken and greens, and we enjoyed the evening.