Sunday, April 23, 2006

48 Eventful Hours

Had my pre-birthday bash this weekend (among other things) and a good time was had by all!

And, no, you evil bastards, it wasn't my 40th!
(Okay, yeah, I'll be 40 next year, but in the meantime... eat my shorts!)

Interesting side note: Two of my closest friends weren't at the party because they both had sons whose birthday is the same as mine. Coincidence? Or the mysterious hand of fate...

(Meanwhile, back at the ranch...)
I cannot imagine a more enjoyable birthday weekend:

Friday Night: Went to see the Mark Morriss Dance Troupe at the Mesa Something-or-other Ampitheater. First of all, this facility absolutely rocks. Very modern but tasteful and just hanging in and around the theater was really enjoyable. M had suggested we go some months earlier and it happened to fall on the birthday bash weekend.

Now, the dancing was always technically good, (just ask me because I'm an expert! I'm also very good at driving) but the style of dance varied greatly.

The opening number, for instance, was a tad bit Oklahoma-esque and I watched as M managed to scrunch down about as far as she could into the far corner of her seat, almost, but not quite, dissappearing into another dimension.

Ironically, she'd earlier told me to vamoose if I didn't feel the love. At that moment, however, it seemed there might be 2 new patrons at the nearest bar, come intermission. Luckily, this was the exception to the rule.

The next number, modelled around a piece by Bartok, was urgent, dramatic and arresting. I don't know how to do this piece justice other than to say it was like watching some compelling foreign intrigue unfold - one which took place on another planet. Blah blah blah.

For me, the guy to watch was "Pony-tail Boy" (so named by M), a.k.a. Bradon McDonald. Not only could he dance, but he had a fluidity of motion, expressiveness, and a committment - which made him compelling to watch.

Oh, yeah, and there were a few hot chicks, that could dance pretty good, too.

I could go on (example: there's a print by Escher in which man evolves - and one of the Moriss pieces somehow evoked this) but... maybe you should just go and see for yourself. Really.

Saturday: Woke up around sunrise, wrestled around with M a bit (I think she won - best 2 out of 3 falls) and then, well...

*not every birthday celebration should necessarily start this way (kids, do not try this at home) but once in a great while...

In preparation for Saturday night festivities, M had gotten together the fixin's for Dave-a-ritas - (marguaritas named after their illustrious creator, Dave, for whom we now pause and prostrate ourselves in the ultimate display of gratitude. As my father would say, "like kissing Jesus!") Anyway, they'd been freezing/curing all night and before transporting them to Longhair's, I wanted a small sample. Just a taste, really...

This was at about 7:30 in the morning. M had one. I had one. Oh, god, yes, and then M heated up some mole' to go with eggs and salsa. So good. And then, of course, we each had another to go with Breakfast.

Let me mention that Dave-a-ritas are famous for two things:

  1. The are so-o-o-o tasty.
  2. They pack a wallop!

Time passes and, suddenly, its 7pm, I'm back at Longhair's with a party going in full swing. I am wearing army pants with no shirt, a cowboy hat and sunglasses, and I am attempting to play ping pong. Suffice it to say a fun time was had by all -and- by 9pm, I was done!

Happy birthday to me.

So, M tucked me in, and headed back to her place. Which leads me to the next part of the story...

Sunday Morning -
Had gotten out of bed, briefly at 7 am, to get some hot grease (namely, a Sausage Croissanwich), consume same and return to my post-inebriated coma. Then, at 11 a.m. M calls:

M: Can you come over? Something strange is happening here.


And indeed it was.

Her neighbor/friendly acquaintance had suffered a psychotic break. He'd broken out one of his windows, shaved his head and, while M and I talked, had started loudly counting outside her apartment. I could hear him over the phone.

Moments later I am racing over in my truck (hair plastered to my skull), when my truck starts chugging and I realize I have to stop for gas. Finally, several panicky minutes later, I arrive, and...

Everything's fine.

No noise. No one around. He's back inside and all's well. At least, seemingly so*

*We did hear breaking glass a bit later, but thought it was the originally broken window still falling apart. Unbeknownst to us, it was a new window.

A few hours later, we head out to get coffee and do respective errands. Downstairs, in the parking lot, we both get into our cars, and I look up as a large naked bald man walks out of his apartment and into the parking lot.

Our eyes meet as he walks past and slowly walks down the center of the driveway and towards the street. M jumps into my car, she calls 911 and we follow as he trudges along.

We continue to follow at a distance as he walks the length of the parking lot and then, without a sideways glance, out into traffic.

After a semi-miraculous trip across Broadway he walks about a half a block and then, into, of all places, Ted's Hotdogs.

Yes, really.

Interesting sidenote: another man about to walk into Ted's froze with his hand in the air, and, continued to hold that position until well after the naked man had left.

The naked man left Ted's (obviously forgot his wallet) and the police arrived to take him into custody.

And then we went to coffee.

3 comments:

  1. Anonymous6:56 AM

    Adman,

    In order for a friend (with a son who's birthday is the same as yours) to to tell you that she could not attend your pre-birthday bash due to above mentioned son's birthday, said friend would have had to be INVITED to said pre-birthday bash . . .

    I'm going to chalk this up to a Dave-a-rita moment. Have a happy one.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous1:27 PM

    Happy birthday Little Butchy!! One good year left (possibly).Same gift as last year.
    See you soon,
    dod
    P.S.
    Trixy says hi; and that she can't wait to press her enormous breasts against your navel.Al is getting married an' shit.He says hi. Others might have said stuff if they were here, but they're not; so eat excrement.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Two things:

    1. Ahem. I may've actually forgotten to invite one of the aforementioned friends to the party. Profuse apologies all around. My only excuse is to plead extreme lack of organization and the early onset of alcohol induced stupor on that day. : )

    2. Looking forward to seeing the whole Gordon's gang, enormous breasts not withstanding though I do not plan on eating any excrement. Finally, AL, DON'T DO IT!

    ReplyDelete