i will sing you songs about our love

Hi, yes, hello.

You know how you grew up watching too many bad post-apocalyptic action films and so on a not-too-regular basis you’ll find yourself somewhere wondering if you’re the last person left on earth? That’s me today. Except, well… Gary is here. So technically there are two people left on Earth, and one of us is tired and crabby.

So my weekend, what I remember of it.

Friday night, I went to see I, Robot. In it, Will Smith is butt-nekkid. I hear tell it has robots in it, too, but I didn’t notice. Afterwards, we went to Luce, and it was all a big happy reunion again. Server boy told us his dad looked like a cross between Mickey Rooney, Benicio Del Toro, and Macho Man Randy Savage, and that I’d probably run into him at the demolition derby. Awesome.

Saturday morning, I got up and walked around Lakes Calhoun and Isles. I love early weekend mornings at the lakes. I love the runners wearing their latest race shirts. I love the ornery geese not wanting to uncrowd the sidewalk to let me pass. I love the park benches receding into the incipient swamp. I even love the old people glaring at me for wearing the ‘praise seitan’ tshirt; I guess they didn’t notice that ‘satan’ and ‘seitan’ are not only not spelled the same, they’re entirely different words. Also, who exercises in ‘praise satan’ gear? You’d wear it to a bar or to highschool or something, yeah. But walking? No.

So while I was walking, I came to a startling realization about what was so very wrong with my new sunglasses¹. See, my old ones fell apart, as they do about every 4-6 weeks. They’re $10 at Target, and I love them so I keep buying them. This time, Target didn’t have them. So I tried on every pair they sold (twice), and chose some others that are very different from the usual pair. Now, people like these sunglasses a lot. Four people mentioned them the first day I wore them, so I know they look good. But I realized what it is with them: it’s the attitude. These sunglasses say, ‘I think I’m hot’. Hahahaha. Yeah, I need new ones. The day you hear me saying that is the day you know something’s gone horribly, horribly wrong.

After walking, my dad came over and we set to installing the kitchen floor. I took some pictures with the intent of posting them here, but then I didn’t download them because my iPod was occupying the USB port. So let’s pretend, shall we?

This is the large cut on my heel I got while dragging metal shelving around. I have this talent for sustaining stupid injuries; I still can’t feel my fingertip from slamming it in the door the other day.

How I could be found about half the time: face-down on the floor, under a giant sheet of blue foam underlayment, wielding an Xacto knife. The other half the time, I was whacking tiles into place with a hammer, rubber block, and prybar. ‘Tap and Lock’ is a serious misnomer, my friends.

It is beautiful, no? I’m sure the new owners will be proud of our work.

Saturday night, we went to see some bands playing at First Ave. Quietdrive was awesome. They all had to be maybe 18 or 19, and were so very sincere about being rockstars. They had great energy and an electric violin, which I hear is the key to success. Then we saw Skywynd, which… I dunno. They were voted best band or something in City Pages. They were pretty good, but they rocked out in the way too many other bands rock out. Also, they looked exactly like Duran Duran. I’m not sure if that was intentional or not, but it was damn funny. It’s been a long while since I’ve attended a show with a mosh pit, too. We stood there for a while watching Ben, the guy who drunkenly introduced himself² three times upstairs in the bar, experience the mosh pit at floor level. That had to hurt.

And Modest Mouse is sold out, before I even heard about it. I want to throw things.

Afterwards, we went to Suzi’s. For the first time ever, we had a horrible, bitchy server girl. I ordered a Tofurky sammich, and she came back to tell me they were out of anti-meat. I asked if they had anything else vegetarian. She said, “I wouldn’t know. I eat meat.” Dude! Whatever. It’s funny that the side of me that fears karmic retribution renders me incapable of tipping less than 20%, even fully enraged.

Sunday, I got up and did the second coat of paint on the bathroom. Painting the ceiling is an adventure in not destroying one’s contact lenses. Also, I had a run-in with inadequate ventilation. But don’t worry, my memory function can’t get any worse than it already is, so I didn’t notice much. I went to brunch with Homie, then came home again and my dad showed up for more flooring. We finished installing it and have some caulking and quarter-round³ left to install, but otherwise the kitchen is done and looks awesome. Since the bathroom and kitchen were the two big projects to complete before the house was marketable, significant progress has been made.

Afterwards, I went to have dinner with the folks, and do some knittin’. My hoodie just needs to be blocked and assembled, and then I’m on to the next big thing. In the meantime, I’m working on camo sock #2. So, while I was knitting, Mother Ripley was reading me the story of my great(x13)-grandmother, who emigrated to Canada from France in 1649. She and her husband, Jacques, had several children, and one of the youngest was