Friday Night Welcome-Home Kiss: B- A bit petite, minor; more of a peck than a kiss. Follow-up hug extended and intimate, which helps the above rating, but still middling as welcome-home kisses go. Participants likely distracted by upcoming weekend.
Friday Night Car Ride to Comedy Sportz: C Rather than try an innovative or creative path, the driver followed the same droning conduit that his passenger expected: Hungary to Woodman, Woodman to Staples Mill, left turn at the first light into the Ukrop's Shopping Center. Driver needs to be more uncharacteristic: Hungary straight to Staples Mill, perhaps, or Hungary to Woodman (as it becomes Hermitage) to Hilliard, then turn right on Staples Mill and backtrack a few blocks.
Friday Night 7:30 Richmond Comedy Sportz Show: B Perhaps a bit harsh on the rating -- the haiku finale is far superior to the "walk into a bar" game, and it did feature a performer drinking an audience member's beer -- but the unfortunate seating at the back of the room of the audience members with the greatest suggestions (where they could barely be heard: the only viable reason the referee would disregard the suggestion “Hershey’s gets bought out by the government of Liechtenstein”) was a poor decision on the part of the wait staff. Cuisine, tried for the first time at this venue, was ho-hum. Still, any show that has a four-headed monster answer the question, "Why did Michael Dukakis lose the 1988 presidential election to the first George Bush?" has a certain upside.
Friday Night/Saturday Morning Sleep: C- Fine until the midway point (approximately 3:00A), where the performer made the artistic decision to eschew a tender sleep for an avant-garde presentation of insomnia that led him, eccentrically, to sleep in the guest bedroom. Poor visualization and execution.
Saturday Morning Breakfast, Panera Bread, Cinnamon Crunch Bagel with Honey Walnut Cream Cheese: B As opposed to the "Friday Night Car Ride to Comedy Sportz," this incident -- while marked with the same unoriginality as "Ride" -- manages to make comfortable and passé feel novel yet contented.
Saturday Afternoon Shopping, Chesterfield Towne Center: C- Dismal; marked with the same issues of monotony as Virginia Center Commons and Regency Square Mall.
Saturday Evening Gillian Welch Concert: A- Welch and comrade David Rawlings are as talented live as they are on CD’s ones and zeros, marking out the limits to some fantastic, non-existent folk genre based in some Appalachian era that never existed. As technically wrong as Welch’s vocal embouchure is -- any accredited voice instructor would pry her mouth open -- her harsh yet mellifluous timbre remains haunting. Did death song "Caleb Meyer"; did not do death song "Wind and Rain"; made joke about how many death songs she does.
Saturday Night/Sunday Morning Sleep: B- Sequel better than the original "Friday Night/Saturday Morning Sleep," but still suffers from an post-performance drowsiness that is antithesis to the nature of sleep.
Sunday Morning Breakfast at Burger King with Bacon, Egg and Cheese Crossantwich: D No issue with taste, but certain consumers of the sandwich were known to have had to skip Sunday morning church services due to sickness that may have been caused by the sandwich; grade may be upgraded if other, more plausible causes of (very) short-term illness are found.
Sunday Morning Richmond Times-Dispatch Reading While Sick in Bed: C+ George Will missing from commentary section; travel section, as always, a waste; sports section irrelevant due to lack of Iowa State game. Fine otherwise.
Sunday Afternoon Octubafest Polka Band Rehearsal at Our Lady of Lourdes: B Euphonium player typically unrehearsed, and he continues to have low lip tolerance for high notes, but the rest of the band performed admirably, despite confusing German instructions on the music and numerous double codas.
Sunday Evening Mass at [Name of Guilty Catholic Church Removed]: C- Parking lot much less full than usual -- have they expanded, perhaps? -- but the priest is still too mannered and theatrical (he turns every final letter into a elongated "SSSSSSSSS" or "AAAAAAAYYYYYYYY" or [please no] "TTTTTTTTTTTT"; he speaks sing-songily, even during the Gospel reading), and the service, as in times past, has felt far closer to a performance than to a worship of God.
Sunday Evening Viewing of first two season-three episodes of "Sex in the City": C- Crapiddy crap crap. Even more stupidly narcissistic than "Will and Grace."
oh so lovingly written by
Matthew |
i sincerely do not know what you are doing here. are you lost? were you
looking for your delicate calico cat, and did you follow her up two flights of stairs
to this room? she is not here. she was here, yes. we gave her a warm bowl of milk, we talked with her about campaign finance reform for a time, and then she bid us good day. i believe she was
going to the post office two blocks down, but i don't quite recall.
for surely you did
not find your way from prinsiana, the least traveled site on
the internet. if you did, though, perhaps you are looking for humor. perhaps you are looking for profundity. perhaps you are looking for answers.
i'm sorry, but you shall go naught-for-three.
