In a fit of insanity, I agreed to meet up with Laural in Adams Morgan on Saturday night.
I should have heeded my Lyft driver falling asleep at the light at 14th and R NW as a sign and gone home. Instead, I politely woke him up and made small talk to keep him awake until he dropped me off.
Once I was safe in Adams Morgan – well, as safe as you can ever be in Adams Morgan – I was beset on all sides by a group of sorority girls. I almost drowned in a sea of little black dresses, but was graciously saved by random assholes who felt it necessary to stand in the middle of the sidewalk. The current slowed, I escaped one hell for the fresh hell of Madam’s Organ.
Outside of Madam’s Organ, a group of children were arguing with a bouncer about money. Assuming he was just extorting them to accept their fake IDs, and already sick of this shit, I showed my ID and stormed in. Turns out there was actually just a cover for the bar, and I had white-manned my way in for free.
After minutes of listening to perfectly adequate music in a crowd that could best be described as “college students who thought it would be cool to take drugs and go to a club, but who didn’t know any clubs so they just went to the shitty bar they always go to. Also, their drugs were super shitty so they were just drunk.” Laural and I were ready to call it quits. We walked to Jojo’s on U Street to listen to good jazz in a non-crowded room, and ended the night judging hilarious creepers on Tinder.
- I’m all caught up on Steven Universe now. I feel like this chunk got a little heavy handed with the subtext, but it’s a children’s show so I guess that’s understandable. I was going to complain about a lack of Pearl in the newstorylines, but then I remembered how fucking amazing “Mr. Greg” was.
- That donut shop I applied for wants me to do a phone interview. I spent a lot of this weekend thinking up different ways to say “wait, I really have to convince you to eat donuts? LOOK AT THEM!” to prepare.
- I watched Time Bandits to honor Kenny Baker’s memory. Screw R2-D2, Fidget was Kenny Baker’s best role. I’m sorry I killed you, Fidget.
- An old co-worker came in to Atlas on Sunday to vent. I’m soooooooo happy I quit. Apparently it’s a fucking mess there now
- It was too hot to bike, so I used Lyft to get to and from work. On the ride home my driver told me a story about going to JC Penney. He usually hates going to Penney’s – he prefers Kohl’s – but he had a coupon that was expiring that day. Between his coupon, clearance and bonus store credit he got two $40 shirts for $18 total. After he was done in Penney’s, he went to BJ’s to pick up women. That story is much less charming.
This was originally just going to be part of Highlights, but apparently I have more complex feelings about books than I expected. It is now going to be a feature of Weekend Update.
I’ve recently developed some pretty egalitarian views about books, and the necessity of sharing stories. Also, I’m still planning to move across the country and don’t want to ship a bunch of books. Luckily Atlas recently installed a Little Library, which is the perfect place for me to redistribute some books.
I dropped off two books this week because I didn’t realize I’d want to write so much about books. This week I left:
Sideways, Rex Pickett
I bought Sideways in sophomore year of high school. I was working on building my indie cred, and I’m pretty sure I read about the movie Sideways in an issue of Paste. Between it having a limited release and being rated R, I knew I probably wouldn’t get to see it. I figured reading the book would be the next best option.
When the movie started getting Oscar nominations it came to my local theater, and my friend Jenn and I snuck in to see it [We paid for tickets, but they were for a different movie. I think it was Meet the Fockers.- Ed.]. Despite my love of Paul Giamatti, Thomas Haden Church and Alexander Payne; I think I like the book better. It’s a pretty faithful, if trimmed down adaptation, but the only thing the movie improved on the book is a scene where Paul Giamatti’s character complains that the reason he doesn’t kill himself is because it will only guarantee nobody will ever appreciate his work. In both to book and movie they then argue if PGM is famous enough to kill himself, but in the movie Thomas Haden Church adds “what about that Confederacy of Dunces guy?”
No Country for Old Men, Cormac McCarthy
I don’t remember where or when I got this book, but it sat on my book shelf all through college. I didn’t get around to reading it until maybe a year ago. It’s pretty good.
Both are available in the Little Library outside Atlas Brew Works.
By the Numbers
Sobriety: 5/10. It’s getting hard to judge this anymore.
Healthy Eating: 2/10. I’m pretty sure all I ate this weekend was some thai food on Sunday.
Sanity: 7/10. I was very sociable this weekend.
True Love: -10/10. Laural matched with somebody named “Garence” on Tinder on Saturday, and now my world is darker knowing that Garence is out there and I will never experience his love.