I had a good weekend.
My trial got delayed, so I didn't have to worry about that, and I had plenty of time to relax.
Let's see, what did I do?
Saturday, I took out my bike for the first time this summer, and rode to the bar.
You know, there's something about riding a bike to the bar that makes me feel like an alcoholic who has had her license taken away. I wanted to walk into the bar saying, "No, my license is still valid, it was just a nice day for a bike ride. I swear." Besides that, there's no parking over by the bar, and it's not really far enough to drive, but a little too far for a walk on a really hot day.
Anyway, I went to the bar because I wanted a beer and a really good burger. (I originally posted this saying "I wanted a beer and a really good beer." You can tell where my mind was.) So, I wanted a burger. And this bar has 1/3 lb. angus burgers. But by the time I got there, I ended up ordering a salad. Something about biking can do that to you, I guess. It was a delicious salad that included angel hair pasta on top of the lettuce. My lunch date thought that was weird, but it was yummy. And it had crunchy things, maybe they were toasted little pita strips or something. It was good.
And then, this guy who is almost sort of a little famous, at least locally maybe, sat down at the next table. And I smiled and said "Hi!" before I really realized who he was. Then I kept thinking, as I ate my salad, whether I should maybe say something about what he was famous for. But I didn't.
I did drink a beer with my salad. I forget what kind it was. (More on the beer situation in a later post.) Anyway, the beer was like $4, and it was the size of at least 3 beers. And I'm cheap date. I'm buzzed after 1 beer. So, when I went out to my bike, I actually thought to myself, "I hope I'm not too drunk to ride my bike home." But I was ok.
What else? I got my nails done. Get this. I go to the nail place pretty much every 2 weeks. Sometimes every 3rd week. Same nail place. Always on Saturday, and usually around the same time in the morning, but I don't really keep track of it. (I don't make an appointment, I just show up, but I like it better earlier when it is less crowded.) I'm probably in there for a half-hour at the most each time. And they always have the "lite music" station playing.
How is it, then, that every single time I go there, the same crappy song, "Someone Left The Cake Out in the Rain," plays while I'm in there? (Yes, I goggled it, and I now know that the name of the song is "MacArthur Park," but, really, if you've ever heard the song, you know that line, and not necessarily the title.) Googling it, I also learned from wikipedia that the lyrics were "symbolic and sexual." I don't get the sexual symbolism of leaving the cake out in the rain (go ahead and try to explain that in the comments), and I really don't listen much past, "and it took so long to make it, and I'll never have that recipe again!" Geeze lady, quit whining! Go bake another freakin' cake and shut up about it!
I know. It's because it took so long to make it, and you don't have the recipe. Make another cake. Buy some Duncan Hines. Go to a bakery. Empower yourself to take some control over your own life, you know? I thought the 1970s were the decade for feminism. You're a disappointment.
But what I really want to know is, what crazy DJ works every Saturday morning and really think it is necessary to play that song every weekend? Or, could it really be coincidentally, every 2nd or 3rd weekend when I'm there? I know you're just a "lite music" DJ, but really, there must be something else you can play. It's a 7 minute song, so I guess that maybe it gives the DJ enough time to run out and get her coffee? Or work on her 7 minute abs? I spent my nail salon time this weekend trying to figure out any other possible excuse.
What else did I do? I went to brunch, I went to see a friend's baby. I went grocery shopping. I ate deliciously fudgey rich brownies with melty chocolate chips. It was a fun weekend. I hope I'll remember it when Monday morning rolls around.