Tuesday, January 30, 2007

The Weekend

This past weekend turned out to be an eventful one. This wasn't expected, since I didn't have a single plan on Friday. I enjoyed a calm week at work only to be slammed with a ton of problems on Friday. That's how it always happens, it seems. I drove down to the old hometown to help my father reconcile the yearly OSHA paperwork, expecting to do nothing over the weekend other than make a much-needed trip to the grocery store to stock up on provisions. As it happens, I didn't have the time to make it there.

Friday night I called up the Lieutenant to see what was new in his world. I knew that his birthday was a week ago, but I was ill and he was out of town. As it turns out, he was downtown and I quickly agreed to meet him there. Ever since my graduation I haven't made any regular visits to the downtown bars on State Street. It's just not my style. But every so often I like to prove that I still can. So Friday became that proving grounds. We started off at one popular nightspot and made our way to several others. It was 3:30 in the morning before I returned home. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a little proud of the fact that I can still debauch myself in this manner.

Saturday morning wasn't the high point in my life, to be sure. But I was cognizant enough to remember that I had agreed to undertake a Clint Eastwood marathon of sorts. The night before I agreed to go see Letters From Iwo Jima followed by Flags Of Our Fathers. These are both exceptional movies, but this experience was grueling. The full effect of this has not yet set in for me, but after watching these movies I was just numb. Eastwood is without argument one of the greatest directors of our time. I enjoyed these movies as much as one can enjoy the representation of so much human suffering and loss of life. It is one thing to watch a fictional movie and celebrate the good guys winning, but when you see movies like this, and of course you know just a bit of the history of the events behind them, it is difficult to come out all warm and fuzzy. Lt. Ramm put it best when he said following Letters, "That was a good movie. I was nearly for the Japanese."

After this Eastwood marathon I ran home to change quickly from my moviegoer garb to something more appropriate for a night out at one of the newer pool lounges in town. I was meeting my good friends Natan and Bart for a night of pool at the The Brass Ring, next to my beloved High Noon Saloon. We played Cutthroat, appropriate for three dudes. I distinguished myself by losing the last game by inadvertantly shooting in my own ball following an incredible shot. So it goes.

Sunday morning was one of those rare mornings where I awoke with the joy of no hangover. It sucks getting old, and what gets me the most is the recurrent shittiness of the morning after. I called up E Eugene, who was stuck with an open house during the Badger game. Too bad for him. I watched my Badgers beat the Hawkeyes and then journeyed over to the Chalet for a little afternoon drinking. Once his lovely wife returned, we ordered in Picasso's pizza and watched Little Miss Sunshine. I had heard the buzz regarding this movie, and I have to say I was not disappointed. I've always been partial to the blacker shades of comedy, and this movie hits all the right notes.

So, for not having a single thing to do as of 6:00 Friday night, it turned out to be just about the best weekend a guy like me can hope for. I saw three great movies, and touched base with a good number of my friends. What more can you expect out of three days?


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