~Saturday~ I slept in this morning, and once up enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and took care of several to-do items online, including some calendaring for Salon, writing Thursday and part of Friday’s blog entry, and playing some Scrabble.
Mid-afternoon, I finally got my ass to the gym, where I did 40 minutes on the elliptical machine for a 737-calorie burn, while listening to an episode of Car Talk, which of course caused me to laugh out loud several times.
I stopped at the grocery store next door to the gym, where among other things, I bought some fully cooked barbecue ribs that had been marked down from $10 to $7.99, and I ate the hell out of them when I got home.
At some point during the day, either on Twitter or in some Facebook status, I saw a pointer to this YouTube video, which is essentially daily affirmations on steroids.
Joe arrived at just a little after 7:30 and we headed to Durham to meet Robert at Manbites Dog Theater, where the three of us immensely enjoyed their current production, God’s Ear. Oh my god. I got to laughing so hard in the latter half of the first scene when the character played by my friend Katja did some absolutely hysterical vignettes set in a bar.
If you love live theater, are looking for a nice night out with a date, or even by yourself, I’d highly recommend this production. The description of it doesn’t at all do it justice.
 If misery loves company, why am I standing here all alone? Mel and her husband Ted must deal with heartbreak — with a little help from G.I. Joe and The Tooth Fairy, in this magical and musical ode to love, loss, and the absurdities of life. Regional Premiere. |
Joe and I went to Flex once we got back to Raleigh, where a “Daddy & Son” contest was on tap for the evening. I’m not even going to go into how absolutely tragic this event was. Okay, maybe just a little…
Three people competed for the title of “Daddy,” two of whom were not at all hairy, and one of whom had to weigh somewhere in the neighborhood of 350-400 pounds. Two seconds into the “underwear competition” part of the contest, it was obscenely obvious that clothes were the contestants’ new—albeit long-lost—best friend, particularly both of the non-hairy ones. What are these people thinking? The hairy guy only looked good by comparison, and good is so relative in its use in this case that it feels bad.
Three people also competed for the title of “Son,” one of whom looked potentially older than two of the contestants in the “Daddy” competition. The ego is an amazing thing.
Several times during this inane contest, and more so the longer it went on, I turned completely around, putting my back to the stage, and played on the Internet with my Blackberry—just so I wouldn’t have to look. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy for something to be over.