Que Sera Sera: Weekend highlights v. 700.0

Weekend highlights v. 700.0

When we were leaving Stella on Friday night, we stopped at a street corner and a Jeep Cherokee pulled up next to us with Michael Ian Black inside, sans suit jacket, with his wife behind the wheel. Rob couldn’t contain himself and was like MICHAELIANBLACK! HEYMANYOUWEREAWESOME! and I was like YEAH! and Michael Ian Black kind of did this slouching in his seat, half-smile thing you would do if your mom was driving you home from middle school and your friends waved at you, only maybe your mom was really cool and your friends were huge dorks.

On the train ride home, Liz fell asleep while we were talking about werewolves. This is almost scientifically impossible, and only supports my theory that Liz is some kind of superhero.

I spent most of Saturday on a blanket in the sun at Prospect Park, and both a cute dog and a cute baby came over to our blanket and just hung out for awhile. The cute baby had a hot young dad, which, to me, are like the new catholic schoolgirls. Also, there were sandwiches.

While at the park, I read the Rolling Stone interviews with Usher and Courtney Love, and I’m so thankful to live in a time and a place where pointless celebrities feel free just saying CRAZY ASS SHIT in print for my enjoyment. It was like reading a Jessica Simpson show.

On the walk home from the park, Albee and I stopped into this chi-chi boutique near our apartment that looked like an art gallery inside, and all of their clothes were really cute, but a T-shirt cost approximately $450. I had our park blanket under my arm, and two employees and the store owner came up individually and raved and demanded to know where I’d gotten it and I said, “um, our couch?”, unaware that it was some hot new fashion thing, not a grass-covered Mexican potato sack blanket. Then Albee was in the dressing room but had to run home because she had to go to the bathroom, and didn’t realize until later that she’d left our picnic grocery sack at the boutique. She considered calling and asking if they had our bag of chips, but I told her we had to save ourselves some modicum of dignity. I mean, they were barbecue chips.

I just said “chi-chi” like I’m someone’s grandmother or something. What the fuck.

The Byrnes called and invited me to move back to Tulsa and live with them, and Erin said, “It’ll be like Three’s Company!” and I said, “Do I have to be Janet? Because I don’t want to be Janet,” and she said, “No, Brian will be Janet!” so now I'm considering it.

Today we went to a store more on our keel, and Albee talked me into buying a hot pink miniskirt. Even though I tried it on before I bought it, I didn’t realize until I came home and looked it up online that it’s only thirteen inches long, but it looks really good with my Man or Astro-man? T-shirt and skull and crossbone shoes, and besides, I think everyone should own a skirt that’s half as long as their age.