Aha! I've been released from captivity and captured top-billing on my blog once again.
Labor Day weekend, I shared a bed with a Great Dane. Not THAT great dane, but one that looked even bigger in person, I swear.
Duke, my bedmate, belongs to Ryan, my old roommate. I swear, if you streched him out, foot to nose, he would be at least seven feet tall. Laying down, he took up more than his fair share of the bed. I was happy to oblige him.
I went to Seabrook, outside of Houston, to spend the weekend with Ryan (my friend, the genius feminist) and Christie (my friend, the genius veterinarian). Before I went, I stopped and bought Scooby Snacks and six rawhide bones for Bingo, Molly, Rudolph, and Duke, the only dogs I was sure would be there. When I walked into the house, there were eight beautiful canines jumping up and down and wagging their tails in greeting. Later that night, Ryan showed me to the guest room, and informed me that I would be Duke's guest for the evening.
I love Ryan and Christie. That would only happen at their house, or perhaps at my sister's house, if she had a Great Dane. It's too bad that I rolled over and startled Duke in the middle of the night - he jumped off the bed and paced back and forth, sighing heavily as if to say, "Damn you for taking my spot."
Brad turned 27 this week! I should have posted a birthday message for him, but alas, I dropped the ball on that. Instead, I'll tell you about the most awesomest surprise I've ever planned, and how I pretty much ruined the whole "surprise" element of the "surprise" birthday adventure.
It all started the week before last, when Brad found out that a good friend of his was coming in town for the extended weekend, and planned to leave around Wednesday or so. When Brad asked if this was cool, I got all confused and said, "Sure! But what if I have a surprise planned for Tuesday night?"
Dude, why would I say that? As soon as it came out of my mouth, I rolled my eyes at myself.
I woke Brad up on Tuesday, so excited about the surprise that I could barely contain myself. The first words out of my mouth were, "Happy birthday week! Do you want to know what your surprise is?"
"Um, no," he said, "because then it won't be SURPRISE."
All afternoon and evening long, I kept begging him to let me tell him. He became increasingly irritated and not excited, therefore derailing my plan. Apparently, Brad likes surprises to be revealed at the last possible second, while my theory is a) really, that decision should be left up to the supris-or, not the supris-ee, and b) the longer you know about a surprise, the longer you have to enjoy it, right? Not right, according to the birthday boy. Finally, I stuffed him the car along with my sister Andreia, and we were off to the mysterious surprise. We made it almost all the way there before I totally ruined it by not remembering where to park, and having to ask him for directions.
"Hey, remember that time we went to that thing and had to park in that parking garage over here? Where is it?"
"You mean that thing at the Austin City Limits studio?" Brad asked with a sigh. "So who's playing?"
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! That's right. With a little help from my generous boss, we went to see
Ozomatli tape an episode of
Austin City Limits.
Now, I have seen Ozo shows several times before, so I was prepared for them to rock my face off. I hadn't been to a taping of ACL yet, though, and it was magical - from walking into the dimly-lit studio, to seeing the city lights of Austin light up along the back wall, to when the band came out drumline-style and my heart jumped and my booty started shaking. Pretty much everyone in the audience was shaking their booty, too, facilitated by the free beer handed out before the show. In fact, it's possible that I might have shoved Brad back behind me in order to have more space to get my groove thang on.
It's also possible that the whole world will get to see me grooving when the taping is aired in a few months, since we were seated right next to the stage in the "direct camera line" seats. That night, I couldn't have cared less - to me, you might as well dance like no one's watching you, that's the point of going to a show and having a good time, right? I might regret that later. I'm not too worried, though, since I'm pretty sure all the cameraman was interested in was the little hottie girl shaking it in front of us anyway.
Ozomatli on ACL. That will go down on my top ten most favorite shows ever. I hope Brad enjoyed it half as much as I did.
Later in the week, I stopped at a gas station to fill up. To set the tone, I must tell you that I was not in a very good mood, and the whole gas station thing was not on the top of my list of Fun Things To Do When Life Is Yanking Your Chain. I was (thankfully) alone at the pump, deep breathing, meditating, changing my attitude, that sort of thing, when a minivan with mudflaps pulled up next to me, blasting Kid Rock so loud that the bass shook the windows of the nursing home across the street, and all the nanas inside clutched their chests in horror. The driver of the minivan was a middle aged man with a business-in-the-front, party-in-the-back haircut, no shirt, and a gut that said "Get me a burr from the fridge, woman." He turned UP the crap rock, got out of the minivan, crossed his arms, and looked at me like "What are you going do about it, woman?"
I finished pumping my gas, got back in my car, revved the engine, rolled down my window, and yelled, "Jesus loves you, even if you're having a mid-life crisis!" as I drove away.
Just kidding. I just slammed my door and drove away. Two blocks later, the witty comeback came to me. Isn't that how it always works?
Lucy loves you |
