I’ve noticed that a lot of blog-people are posting “the year in review” which is all well and good if you have a large readership, but for the little people like me, it seems trite. So I’ll do a wrap of the weekend instead.
hit up Harvard Square with Sister for some post-Christmas returns and got hot chocolate that was so rich i was actually nauseated for several hours. Note to shoppers: JASMINE SOLA SUCKS. Not only do they give you a measly 14-day window for returns, they also will NOT give you your money back. and their staff blows.
Several hours of Katamari later, we headed home for the traditional lobster & tater tots NYE dinner and then a solo jaunt to TCITB for the PAR-TAY where i drank heavenly sangria made personally by the lilied hands of sabominator. Perhaps the sangria was a bit too-too, because i scared several felow revellers away by making a photodocumentary of the female guests breasts. pictures forthcoming on the tcitb site. i hope.
woke without a hangover, and if that isn’t a miracle, well goshdarnit i JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT IS. the crew journeyed to a local haunt for breakfast where the old, bitter, dried up husk of a waitress gave us the worst service ever. i mean EVER. a hint: if you are ever near Franklin MA, do NOT go to James’ roadside cafe and ask for separate checks. not only is it against their policy, but they also exact their revenge from your soul by refusing to refill your coffee and making you wait 45 minutes for your eggs and homefries.
Gaming with the family in the evening and later the misfortune of watching “The Chronicles of Riddick” in otherwise serviceable company. But a valuable lesson was learned: when in doubt, bring a bottle of white zinfandel.
stayed at the folks’ house to get omelets from my dad. Laid around all day eating snacks and watching the Patriots, who are NOT my team of choice. My team of choice suffered a crushing loss to the Steelers, which i firmly believed was caused by my inability to watch the game on ESPN.
The weekend ended with a family outing to the local multiplex, where we took in the FINEST 2.5 HOURS OF CINEMATIC KITCH EVER, otherwise known as “andrew lloyd weber’s the phantom of the opera”. It is a dark secret that i have been obsessed with the Phantom since the tender age of eleven when I saw Michael Crawford’s touring roadshow at the Wang and almost shit my pants in rapture. Needless to say, the film hardly compares to the Original London Cast Recording circa 1988 with Crawford and Brightman in the lead roles, but the patented “organ-induced goosebumps” and “operatic drum machine ecstacy” survive the remake.
… so, was that worse than a “year in review”? Yeah, maybe it was. Whatever, I’m posting it anyway.