July 2007: this is why i could never do this professionally
We went to see a movie Saturday night --
what? Oh, Transformers. Yeah, it was pretty good. Huh? Well, I don't know if he's the next Tom Hanks, but his comedic timing's not bad.
Anyway, before the movie we had dinner. I had to order this thing called a flirtini because it had champagne and we were CELEBRATING, baby. God, was I embarrassed ordering this drink. And then I got carded. So I kissed the waiter. And then Fred got carded and he kissed the waiter too. I decided, after finishing my FLIRTINI (I must spell it that way so as to avoid some of the embarrassment. Don't ask me why this works) in a record 4 minutes, I decided it tasted like crap and I would not be saying FLIRTINI to the waiter again. So I ordered an apple martini (because that's way more civilized) and Fred continued to drink his giant margarita. Then the waiter tried to bring us the check, and we said, "No! We are CELEBRATING! And we are lushes with babysitters! Another round!" Then we all made out a bit.
We finally stumbled out of there and over to the movie theater (thank goodness we fandango'd our tickets so we wouldn't have to slur unintelligibly to the ticket counter person). At some point, something amused me to no end, and I knew I would need to write about it here. So I took out a receipt and scribbled "artificial leg" on it. You know, as a reminder.
I cannot for the life of me remember what it was about. And that's too bad, because I think it was really funny.
Anyway, then the previews started and by the time the movie ended I was sober with a very bad headache.
My story has no ending. I like cheese. The end.
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