Weekend Update

The weekends just keep getting shorter and shorter it seems...

1. Friday 7:14 PM: Girls' night. I'm not good at these for three reasons - I hate Zach Efron, I don't think the pizza guy without the tattoos is that cute, and I feel really awkward bumping Ke$ha while sober.

Despite these setbacks, and my numerous references to my knowledge of world religions - Judaism in particular - girls' night was marginally successful. It was resolved, like most good things, with cookie dough and exhaustion. No pictures because, unlike your fantasies, girls' nights do not involve nighties and pillow fights, and most of us were wearing sweats.

2. Saturday 1:14 PM: After a luxurious hour and a half of being conscious that day, I realize it's beautiful out and I should take my dogs for a walk. An hour and a half later, I realized my ambition (as well as my blisters) were overwhelming. Today I am in the physical pain to prove "the day I was supremely awesome and walked through all of La Jolla" truly existed. (Yes, that is the phrase I repeated to myself on the way back up the mountain).

3. Saturday 9:20 PM: Garnet St, Pacific Beach. What a place to be on a Saturday night. My friend needed to replace part of her piercing, so we wandered into Avalon Tattoo shop. Being in PB always makes me want to get something pierced, so while Mary got refitted with some new metal, I perused the possibilities.

Ooh, that Labotomy is pretty steep.

Looking back on this picture, I have some questions:

A) What if I only want one nipple done? What if I want three?

B) Why would a genitalia piercing go upwards of $70? What unforeseen costs could arise once you're already in the chair?

C) What are divers? (Upon research, divers are represented as interchangeable with dermal anchors. In that case, what is the difference according to the tattoo shop?)

D) Who would ask for a refund on a tattoo? No return policy seems applicable.

Sunday 1:15 PM: Stop by at the new house to put down a rug. Encounter a man who appears to be talking to himself. I immediately locate the bluetooth but before I can even question why someone wouldn't just hold a phone if they aren't driving I hear part of his conversation: "So I read on your profile that you lead an 'active lifestyle'. I too am very active. I'm on a walk right now actually." The bluetooth is qualified by his accompanying action: lighting up a Marolboro Red. As he doubles back after making it a quarter of the way down our block, I hear another gem as I watch his man boobs jiggle, synchronized with his beer gut: "Oh yeah, I love dogs, my youngest daughter loved to play with our dog when she was four. She's 28 now..." Way to slip that one in there. I bet she'll never know the difference once she meets you in person.

I hope he feels almost as stupid as this Trekkie.

4:25 PM: I awake from a nap, wishing I hadn't. I come out of this weekend with some empty moving boxes, broken dreams of going to Hooters with my wives, and not much else. Here, I anxiously await the consumerism holiday that is Valentine's Day.

Where will i take my naps next year?