This weekend was a relatively quiet one. It started out with a bang (not literally or figuratively) at Gregerson's place Friday night with a little Rock Band. I had never played before. Needless to say, I was all over "Ballroom Blitz." What I found odd, though, is that they listed some band called Sweet as the group who sang it. I guess they must have covered Crucial Taunt. In other news, I am a fairly terrible drummer. In unrelated news, I was motherflippin' shocked to learn that neither Alex nor his anonymous wife had heard of Flight of the Conchords (by the way, the new season starts on HBO this Sunday, 1/18, at 10 p.m. EST/11:30 p.m. NST, or Monday at 4 p.m. in New Zealand).
Saturday was spent doing pretty much nothing. I recently purchased some of those adjustable dumbbells, so I worked out for the first time in four or five months, or maybe a year. According to certain health rags, women I share a bed with, and photographic depictions of me, I've put on an unhealthy bit of weight in and around my stomach, neck, face, ass, back, and, oddly, my elbows. Ergo, I have started a training regimen that should have me back down to my playing weight within three or four years, if all goes well. This, of course, assumes that I have enough room in our second bedroom to do jump squats, that I can join a high school football team, and that I am able to obtain one of those vibrating weight-loss straps for my midsection. Regardless, after my first workout, lactic acid is not my friend, but then again I was benching almost 20 pounds. PER ARM. My elbows will thank me later.
Saturday night Jester and I stayed in and watched The Darjeeling Limited, the latest Wes Anderson creation. It was quirky and cinematographically interesting, but not as funny as his other flicks.
Yesterday, Jessie and I performed our two-person musical version of "Harley Davidson and The Marlboro Man" for, appropriately, Harley. It was met with mixed emotions and a decent amount of rawhide chewing. We decided to leave Harley alone with her thoughts and head to Target via The Blaab, which was plowed into a parking spot on our block. After some shimmying, I pulled off a maneuver that I have never pulled off or seen pulled off before. With the windows rolled up and Jessie inaudibly screeching at me from the middle of the street, I turned the wheel all the way to the left and floored it. The result was nothing short of astounding. The Blaab performed a complete 180, as if its back wheels were on an immovable axis. It was as if Buddha himself picked up my car out of its parking spot, and set it down right next to where it had been, facing the opposite direction. It was awesome. And with that, Jessie got in while laughing in disbelief, and we went around the block because we were now facing the wrong direction.
To top it off, with victories by the Eagles and the Steelers, my bracket in J-Diza's Super Bowl pool is perfect. If -- no, when -- the Ravens beat the Eagles in the Super Bowl (the first Super Bowl pitting two 6-seeds against each other), then you will know my name: Nostradamus.
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On NYE, I met a Kiwi who actually went to college with Jermaine and Bret. Apparently, Jermaine's mother is some prima ballerina and this girl had ballet classes with Jermaine. She said he is an amazing dancer.
i can't believe those two never heard of flight of the conchords. my cousin spent christmas learning one of the songs and continued to sing it all weekend long, dedicating his performance to my 94 year old grandmother, who i'm sure had no idea what he was saying.
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