"The Weekend in Review"

03/12/2001

You're probably expecting some grand epic tale about how I wrestled crocodiles, rescued a child from a burning building and helped an old lady across the street. Well, keep hoping. You should know by now that my life is not that interesting. If there's not a Faire going on for me to report about or some drunken Irish bar gathering, then about the most that can be hoped for is movie rental and shopping. Which is, of course, exactly what happened this weekend.

We'll start with the movie. Bedazzled was Saturday's evening pick from the neighborhood Blockbuster. Why? I dunno. There wasn't really that much that I hadn't seen and I was in a comedy mood. I hadn't heard very good things about this flick, but I was pleasantly surprised. I laughed outloud several times (especially when Brenden Fraser got turned into a Columbian drug lord!) and let's face it... Elizabeth Hurley isn't all that hard to look at. It was campy and formula driven, but maybe that's what I was in the mood for that night. So I give it 2 out of 5 sheep.

Sunday, I went shopping for jeans, which I really hate doing, because the last pair of jeans I bought was about 5 years ago and they were finally called to jean-heaven last month. No, I have not been running around naked for a month. It's just that while I do wear jeans, I prefer khaki type pants. (I know khaki is a color, but I just can not call them "slacks".) Anyway, so I go to Wal-Mart and try on a size that I think is the next one up from what I was wearing. You know, because all clothes are mislabeled anyway... *ahem* As it turns out, this pair came dangerously close to marking me as "Sheepmaster G". Being so far out of what's hip nowadays, I'm not even sure that the kids are still wearing their pants that low, in which case I would have simply been known as "The Plumber".

*thwap!*That's for all of you who automatically finished that last sentance with "...he's come to fix the sink!". And I know which ones you are too.

Anyway, gleefully I went down two sizes in the vain hope that I might actually be shrinking. No such luck. Eventually I ended up with three pairs of jeans (and one of them my first pair of black ones! Go me!) exactly the same size as the ones I got five years ago, which is just fine with me. I guess you could say there's something intrinsically zen about maintaining a constant harmonious relationship between the known universe, in its infinite glory and wonder, and my own mass.

Well, it sounds better than "big fatass".