Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Weekend in Review

Part I: Date Night

Well, since I know you've all been waiting with painful anticipation of the post reviewing Date Night, here it is! And really, your date night is probably better than ours. Oh and also? THIS is sort of why we don't leave the house much.

The sitter arrived, right on time. We didn't know exactly what the plan was, so we'd just sort of head downtown and either meet with The Man's Huge Bodybuilder Friend or our other friends from the (picture me throwin' up hands) West Side.

Because he loves me SOOOO much, The Man took me to a bar that makes the drinks that single-handedly almost ruined my junior year of college. Well, it was the drinks OR the fact that I CANNOT learn Middle English. You would think it might have something in common with OUR English language, and you'd be dead wrong sir. Anyway, it's a *fine* establishment that offers over 40 flavors of long island. Some include the infamous "Cherry Coke" or my personal favorite, the "Tie Dye" which involves all sorts of brilliant colored liquors swirling together in a pitcher of delicious glory.

So I ordered a cherry coke pitcher, because I was under the illusion that what I once did with the Home Girls on an average Saturday night was certainly possible now that I'm old and decrepit. Notsomuch. I had half the pitcher and was all tipsy and making new friends. Thanks to my Compassion Face, I learned that one lady was having her birthday, but her husband refused to drink with her and, I quote, "You know what? Fuck 'im! You drink that pitcher for ME!" Okay! Far be it from me to deny a new friend on her birthday.

When The Man and I finally elected to head over to tha' West Side, I was pretty righteously on the far side of not sober anymore. I don't drink, really, so to say I have a low tolerance is um, an understatement. We walked into the parking garage and I was all "woooooo! There's our CAR!" and The Man just sighed with the clear *enormity* of my retardation. Then I was babbling about something and he was trying to check for cars behind us and we hit a concrete post. BAM! Scrape! Ouch! ... Pause for dramatic reveal....: In our Crappy American SUV, you ask? Why no! In the Bitchy German Luxury Car! The BGLC homies! What fresh hell is this?!

So then we spent about 10 minutes arguing about how I thought HE thought it was my fault and he was all "I didn't SAY that....BUT if I hadn't moved spots...." and who had suggested the spot by the concrete post? ME. So yes. That was a fun discussion, hindered by the fact that I was easily distracted by my lip gloss and trying to rap along with Weezy. (This also happens when I'm totally sober.)

Luckily, seeing our friends was just the trick to perk us up after we caused untold billions worth of damage by a single scrape to the old BGLC. We met them at a bar on karaoke night, and after refusing kind suggestions to sing onstage, hung out until we had to make it back for our sitter's sitting curfew. Fun!

And by fun, I mean this: YES, I did get my first pitcher long island since college but NO, I don't like paying insurance deductibles thanks to parking accidents.

Part II: The Up-Too-Late Aftermath

Since apparently my children can sense any weakness, no matter how small, they got up at 6:30 the next day. Did you catch that?! Yes. THAT EARLY. I was still exhausted and smelling vaguely of the establishment that still thinks cigarette smoke is excellent air freshener. Why sure, let's head downstairs for breakfast!

We spent the entire day Sunday rolling around on the couch in work out clothing (because A. it's comfortable, B. it makes up 90% of The Man's non-work clothing and C. It's so cold on my main floor that the Under Armour shirt keeps me toasty) and watching my NEW. Favorite. Show. Ever.

And I'm sure that while YOU'VE already heard of it, watched it and/or decided it's passe, *I* had never seen this sparkling gem in reality tv's lackluster crown before.


Bully Beatdown.

A link? Sure! I'm nothing if not accommodating! Just CLICK ME and be dazzled!

Essentially, a douche who thinks he can fight and is a bully in real life agrees to fight a professional MMA fighter who then proceeds to painfully instill life lessons on the douche's pasty douche body. Brilliant!

The Man had dvr'd it to see what it was, and I was all "what crap is that?" and then, after watching my first ever episode, I decided I was all IN LOVE with this show. I WISH I'd had the idea, frankly. Because then? I'd be sipping long island pitchers in Cabo and rocking a bedazzled 2 piece by the pool, yo.

But alas.

And although I'm pretty sure the show is intended for angst filled 15 year olds, um, I'm sort of a 15-17 dude in my head ANYway, minus digging the ring girls, so I'm totally ON BOARD.

Anyone who says they don't like seeing douches get punched in the face hole is A. a dirty, dirty liar or B. a facist or C. both. Because what is more American than face-punching a douche?! NOTHING.

And I know shit-all about MMA because I can't ever figure out what they're doing in the ring except looking vaguely homoerotic in their clingy shorts but then The Man tells me that they're totally beating the living hell out of each other but I still can't tell and Joe Rogan is yelling terms like "Arm bar, ARM BAR!" and "OOOOH! Rear NAKED CHOKE!" and I get distracted thinking that anything called a "rear-naked choke" is some sort of dirty S&M move and then I get MORE distracted thinking how Joe Rogan annoys me SO MUCH I'd like to see HIM in the cage and I go off to make myself some Chai tea. Much to my soul-sister-in-law's annoyance because she watches MMA like it's her JOB, AND *she* could announce better than Rogan ANY day. And she's hotter too. True story.

But this show is FABULOUS because the tools in question think that they can fight, but actually can't, and then they suck so badly that the pro fighter just wins and it's awesome because I can actually see what they're trying to do. Like a rear-naked choke is actually REALLY painful and not kinky at all.

And the host of the show is a pro fighter himself; and while apparently deeply disturbed on some primal level, (hey, Your Favorite Writer isn't casting stones, yo) is amusing AND entertaining. Win/win.

So yes. Aside from my 6 year old requesting that The Man put a red stripe in his hair like the host, and my 4 year old trying to kick box his father, it was a pretty cool Sunday.

And I spent most of the rest of the day thinking of people I'd like to nominate for the show. You know, to fight the MMA guys. Ahhhhhh, ideas. So many, many options.

Comments, questions, how was YOUR weekend?