Baby Tomato
26 November 2001
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Baby Tomato
26 November 2001
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8:00 PM: Let's see. When last we left Our Hero, it was still theoretically the "work" week. Yeah. Though I ended up staying at work, and actually working if you can believe it, longer on Wednesday than anyone else did. Which is typical in some crazy sense.
Thanksgiving itself was mmmmmmmmmmmm. Big annual bash at Lana and Eddie's house, with delicious turkey cooked by their friend Patrick, and five (5!) (not 5 factorial, just 5) different kinds of mashed potatoes to contrast & compare. (I preferred the simple ones myself.) And gravy that was extremely ummm. And corn and cranberries and pie and your basic overflowing kitchen's worth of goodness. Sometimes the various kinds of dried vegetable matter being burned got a little overwhelming, and led to inappropriate outbursts of laughter, but that was a pretty minor thing. Overall, much goodness. Thumbs up, say I.
Then, after pressing leftovers on all the guests on Thursday, they decided they didn't have enough leftovers left over for themselves, so they made another turkey on Friday. Of course, being a true friend, I had to come over and help eat that one too. We hung out and watched House of Games, intending to go into a full Mametfest in anticipation of seeing Heist. But the Mamet-speak got a little much, so we switched to a nice simple feature next, Memento. Insert obligatory mental-decline joke here. Something with shooting came after that.... Oh yes. LA Confidential, which held up nicely, and what is Curtis Hanson doing these days, anyway?
Some accidentally ordered books from the book club showed up Saturday, which was well timed. We went into Berkeley to see Much Ado About Nothing at the Rep. It was OK. Fun overall, very creaky. I'm really, really over Geoff Hoyle, I'm very sorry. It's funny, this production got a big puff piece in the paper by Hurwitt, the regular reviewer, and then quite a bad review by the other guy there. Steve Winn, that's it. I don't think I've ever seen MAAN performed before, so I couldn't tell what was play and what was production.
Then I just lay in bed and read for the rest of the weekend. Wonderful. Why did I stop?
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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