Mad props to Pete (whose new blog has among the best blog personal pictures out there) for the lyrics for todays title. One would assume that he was reminded of it by either watching Moulin Rogue or from the Elton John special on AI, but none of the 9 finalists (who no longer include Camile Velasco, thank you very much) sang that little diddy, so I am forced to conclude that Pete's favorite movie is Moulin Rogue. I am also forced to conclude that Moulin Rogue's favorite movie is Pete, which isn't a bad choice. What I think is really the nutzors about this title is that you can totally picture Ewan McGregor singing it with the word butt, you can almost feel the butt-related desperation just below the surface of his voice. Irregardless.
We had to leave the house today to go to a debate fundraiser poker tournament, which I played in but was way too out of practice to compete. I won a couple moderate pots, split 2 huge ones which sort of fucked me, and eventually went all-in on A-J suited and fell to pocket queens. It was disappointing, but not surprising based on how often these folks seemed to play. I wish I had the money to play poker more often, even if it was just random tournaments with people I don't know or want to know. I also don't really want to drive the 45 minutes to the nearest room, but I digress. I was in the tournament for just over an hour and twenty minutes, we sat around, I got a little work done, until Katie and I took off. What will likely be Katie's favorite event of the day occurred fairly early this morning, when a ginormous box full of wedding invitations arrived. We hadn't expected them for like another 2 weeks, which made it especially exciting. Anyway, as a result we had to make a quick stop by the old J-A-F as I like to call Jo-Ann Fabrics. Let me tell you something, I know the store gets a bad rap as a place for middle-aged housewives, but in actuality there were houswives of every age level shopping for fabric. I know that Jo-Ann is a nice comfortable suburban fabric store, but in the naming category Hancock Fabrics has the market cornered like a quivering little pet guinea pig, who, after escaping from the little circle in which you were playing with it, has made its way behind the TV and is attempting to chew on the cord for the Atari 2600. This is of course infuriating your friend Jack because he is on like level 30 of Keystone Cops and we think that there are only like 35 levels in the first place, so if that fucking guinea pig screws up the game. If you don't live an anea that has Hancock Fabric commercials on all the time (check out TLC for an hour or two if you want to make sure) you must understand that this is an even more humorous utilization of the word-name Hancock than the Hancock Tower in Chicago (which is not a bold statement seeing as how the Hancock Tower is a tall-tapered-penis-shaped buliding on Michigan Avenue. Some might say that its being located on Michigan Avenue doesn't influence the humor value, but trust me, if you ever are forced to shop in H+M, which is literally just the slutty European version of Old Navy, your day will be drastically improved when you exit to see the Hancock Tower. If you didn't chuckle at that word before, you should start doing so.
The Hancock Fabrics commercial, from which I digressed, is even funnier than the tower because the song "Han-cock: Your Fabric Store and So Much More!!" makes a conscious effort to pronounce the "Han" as if it were "Hand." Brilliant.
So after skipping Handcock Fabrics, the ghetto craft outlet if there ever was such a thing, we finished the ribbon shopping at Jo-Ann and moseyed back to Lockport. Instead of just coming home, we opted for a move over to the Hong Kong buffet for dinner. I pretty much rolled an "all-you-can-eat" shrimp dinner, in a number of different shrimp forms. There was the shrimp egg-foo young, the salt-and-pepper shrimp, the shrimp with vegetables, and the crispy fried shrimp. There were some non-shrimp things in the party as well, the fried rice, the cream-cheese puffs, the spring rolls (out of curiosity, why the fuck can't they just make vegetable egg rolls, I mean, just leave the meat out of the egg roll, but use the fucking egg roll wrapper, not the greasy rice paper nonsense you've got on the spring riz, maybe in your insulated Chinese food world this is acceptable, but in the real-verse, you can't dick around with me and the other fat dudes who are responsible for consuming like 80% of your food), and the various potato products available. There are some items at a chinese buffet which, though obviously not chinese, I understand having a little bit of (maybe the sauteed potatoes or even the deep fried potatoes, the mussels, the ice cream for dessert) but I don't get the people who eat pizza. I mean, I don't really understand why they have pizza there either, I assume its just so that especially picky children and such won't go to chinese buffets unless they get frozen pizza, but its fucking ricockulous. At that point why don't you just feed your children at home and order some General Tso after they go to sleep.
I don't think Friday nights are best spent babbling on the internet, so I will go to bed. Saturday afternoons are more reasonable for nonsense.
Peace,
MB-K
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment