on what was supposed to be our second trip to gachet for Reel Mondays (this time to see being john malkovich), we decided to stay in instead. this might have been the afternoon of the thunderstorm which saw something close to a gallon of water come pouring through my window as i tried to capture as much as possible and keep little things like my couch and my dsl modem from becoming permanently destroyed by errant rain spatter. if it was that afternoon, i was emotionally and psychologically spent.
we finally managed to score a copy of the original texas chainsaw massacre and set up camp to watch it at my place. oh it was awful. and what happened to that black man truck driver at the end? and why on earth did black man truck driver and the girl try to sneak away from the crazed killer by exiting out the passenger side door instead of simply driving away? it was too much nonsense for me to handle.
then the fire alarm incident occurred.
dinner at mai’s. i have no idea why that happened on a tuesday. no idea.
on a roll after purchasing my new LCD monitor, i traipsed into best buy and laid down two gift cards and my bank card on the cheapest laptop they had. after applying said birthday gifts and the rebates, i walked away with it for a comparative song (this was before the auto bills and vet bills, mind you... back when i thought i had some extra money). my primary reason for the purchase was to allow me to leave the house and work which, to date, i have done exactly one time.
brian and i beat the system at its own game and went to the dallas museum of art on the night of free admission. it was the last week of the jim lambie “magical tape” installation and we wanted to see what it was that was purportedly causing old ladies to swoon and require assistance walking over it.
it was pretty damned fancy and i ached just guesstimating how many hours must have been spent making all those lines on the floor with tape. i don't even want to think about the poor schmuck(s) assigned the task of getting it all back up. "jim lambie... brought to you by Goo Gone."
i always forget how much i love the museum because i’m always too busy feeling daunted by the pressure of scrutinizing every piece in an exhibit.
after finishing up with some of the other galleries, we ended up at sol’s for mexican food.
some miracle occurred and brian had friday night free. we dined at cosmic cafe to appease my desire to go out and appease his desire to not overdo it. we finally rented supersize me and were pleased with it just as i knew we would be. and then we watched open water because brian kept bitching that he wanted to watch something scary and then pulled what he thought was reverse psychology by calling me a movie snob and saying i’ll only watch independent films (not at all true, btw. remember that saturday afternoon i spent watching robert hays in the made-for-tv-movie the retrievers?) so that i agreed to get a little something called open water (which was, btw, an independent film).
that being said, i highly recommend open water. run out to your local video store now and pick up a copy. it’s what my dad would call “so bad it’s good”. it was so bad, i want to watch it again. i’ve never seen such pitiable acting of such a questionable script. i’ve never seen such potential for suspense flushed right down the drain in the sea floor. i’ve never seen a married couple depicted as fighting over who’s idea it was to vacation that particular week while hungry sharks swarmed about them. really. go watch it. now. and make sure you check out the bonus footage. especially the one where they felt the viewers would be robbed if they didn’t see the stellar close up of the ceiling fan probably captured by a stoner cameraman.
we got up early saturday morning so we could join darren for a trip to the buchanan antique market. then, on the way out the door, brian remembered he was supposed to be at work. so darren and i went to the buchanan antique market and tore it up. we visited dave, lucinda, and erin at their booth and then proceeded to make purchases at many of the booths around them. as par for the course, i purchased two of darren’s xmas presents there: a typewriter and a vintage book called pussy letters in which a cat writes letters to his “Dear Pussy Cousin” about the wonders of nature.
i fell down the old lady jewry hole and quickly imagined brian never letting me go shopping again after i showed up bedecked in jewels including a tiara. at least everything i purchased fit in my purse... unless you count the owl cookie jar which was purchased for me for xmas after we did this brilliant tag team bit and got it knocked down to $25 or the super fancy white-with-gold “Father” mug i purchased for my father’s bday which later met it’s demise as i was vacuuming and the cord caught the bag and then the bag came crashing to the floor with Pussy Letters making sure it cracked into fifty pieces, but i will glue that mug back together and it will be an even funnier gift once i do.
it was hotter than fucking blazes that day and darren and i went on a wild goose chase on the fair grounds looking for an atm before wising up and driving to one where the middle eastern store owner said i look like alanis morrisette. ”what? is that bad?” and despite our tribulations in the heat, the elderly lady manning the door to the antique fair held me to my word of performing a little dance so she would remember us and let us back in for free.
we finally left to go get dinner two hours before darren was to go on a dinner date. as usual, he left this small detail out until the last minute. he’s such a prude with his dating information. i was finally going to get to eat at monica’s aca y alla until we walked up and saw it was closed. “thank goodness,” i said, “because i completely forgot to feed the meter.” then we drove down a couple of blocks to sol’s where i completely forgot to feed the meter and got a $20 parking ticket from one of the deep ellum parking nazis.
all the heat and parking tickets and old lady jewry gave me vertigo.
i canceled plans to go to target with darren and stayed home to watch robert hays in the made-for-tv-movie the retrievers.