murder most foul

This weekend began with a rainy baseball game and ended with a murder mystery. Joe and I met my parents on Friday at Brixx, a restaurant/pub type thing across the street from the stadium. We were really pushing it to make it to the 7 o'clock game, but as the sky was turning a little Angry Thunder Face, we decided to eat dinner and drink some beers before heading over. As my dad pointed out, beer is cheaper at Brixx than it is at the game, and who am I to argue with such logic in this economy?

So I ate a burger topped in salsa and jalapenos (YUM) and somehow we ended up with not one, not two, but THREE baskets of chips and queso and try as we might, we just couldn't eat all that cheese. We gave it a good effort, though, even turning our waffle fries into CHEESE waffle fries and later that night I realized that I should not eat so much cheese in one sitting. IT'S SO GOOD. Shut up, stomach, you'll eat 10 pounds of cheese AND YOU'LL LIKE IT.

Anyway, we got rained on at the game PLUS ALSO they lost PLUS ALSO I swear to everything holy there were bats flying around but everyone was all, "no, Jennie, they're birds" but they've never been traumatized by a bat so their opinions don't count.

Because of the whole rained-on thing, any plans for a postgame drink were abandoned because as much as I like bars, I do not like sitting in them when half of my butt is encased in wet, slowly-drying jeans, so instead Joe and I changed into pajamas and watched Aliens and I might have whimpered like a little girl in parts but OMG YOU GUYS, Kat was right, aliens are effing terrifying. True story.

We saw Inglourious Basterds on Saturday, which ALSO might have made me whimper like a little girl in parts but that is because Quentin Tarantino is a sick bastard (basterd?). Good movie, though. I read a review somewhere that described Brad Pitt as "Coen-brothers perfect" and that might be the most apt description of his performance, like, EVER. My point is, you should definitely go see it, just be forewarned that you may never look at Ryan the Temp the same way after you've seen him scalp someone. Um. Spoiler?

And then Sunday. What to say about Sunday? I thought about working out after I saw Joe's brother Facebook that he had just signed up for a 5K, but instead I sat under a blanket and read my book for most of the afternoon. I eventually dragged myself off of the couch so I could get ready for the BBQ/Birthday Party/Murder Mystery Party that Joe's friends were throwing. All I have to say is, whoever assigned the characters must read this blog because part of my character's description was about how she tells long, rambling stories that go nowhere and if that's not the theme of this blog then I don't know what is. It turns out that the butler doesn't always do it because, in this case, THERE WAS NO BUTLER and also I discovered I suck at murder mysteries because I mostly just sat back and giggled at everyone, forgot to pay attention to any of the clues, and guessed myself as the murderer just because I had no idea.

Later we played cornhole and I did better at that. For one game anyway. But I totally counted it as exercise because I was, you know, standing and holding a cup and stuff. I meant to get up early this morning and work out, but the fallish breeze was blowing in and it was so warm under the covers that I couldn't drag myself out of bed any sooner than I had to.

Tonight, Heidi and I are going to Nancy's for wine and pizza and catching up, because I'm trying this new thing where I drag the weekend kicking and screaming into the week so I don't notice that it's Monday. It would be a lot more effective, I think, if I wasn't sitting at work right now.

Hey, all right, Ross came as Doody!

We celebrated Halloween a bit early this year, dressing up on Saturday and hitting both the Oregon District's HauntFest and a Halloween party hosted by a walking taco. The festivities started around 8, even though Heidi was still sewing her costume. I mixed up some black punch (grape Koolaid, orange Koolaid, ginger ale, and vodka) and maybe should have used less vodka and more ginger ale. We even made a frozen hand to put in the punch, but the fingers melted really quickly. Also, Joe broke most of them off when he dropped it into the bowl.

Joe and I made a pretty accurate Charlie Brown and Lucy, Steve ended up as . . . you know, I'm not really sure. Heh. After adding a red jacket to his ensemble, he soon became Chas Tenenbaum, and later on that night, Steve Holt. But the real star that night was Heidi, whose Rainbow Brite costume was the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life. There are pictures of her and Steve Holt/Chas Tenenbaum, as well as Charlie Brown trying to kick a football, but they're all on Heidi's camera. Sorry.

Down at the Oregon District it was, well, really fucking cold. We didn't stay long, but we were there long enough for Willie Nelson to call me a bitch. As in, "Charlie! Don't let that bitch pull the football away again!" which was ridiculous, because I think at this point Joe was the one carrying the football. See, when I've been drinking, I tend to lose things and my dad has had the football for 96 years and would probably be really upset if I lost it.

Once we got too cold to wander the streets, we ended up at a house party, complete with hot cider, keg, bonfire, and Sarah Palin. Sarah had lots of babies with her, and eventually most ended up in the fire. I'm not saying Sarah Palin likes to burn babies, I'm just telling you what I saw with my own two (somewhat drunk) eyes.

My sister text messaged me yesterday evening, asking what I was doing. I wrote back "nothing," but a more accurate answer would have been this:

I slept til 11, got up and went to Wendy's for lunch, came home and took a three hour nap, did some laundry, showered, put my pajamas back on, watched TV with Heidi, and got El Toro carry out for dinner.

So, yes, it was a bit of a lazy Sunday. I wore pajamas for most of the day, only changing out of them to go to Wendy's, El Toro, and later to buy pumpkins for more pumpkin carving tonight. I heart Halloween so hard.

you don't have to wear that dress tonight

Yesterday was Jeremy's birthday (of Tamara and Jeremy) and so last night we celebrated with a surprise party. It was also my dad's birthday, but he wanted to hold off on celebrating, surprise or otherwise. We quickly established that, although Jeremy and my dad have the same birthday, Jeremy is not, in fact, my father. There was some confusion for a while, though.

When we got to Tamara and Jeremy's, I noticed that there were decorations on the front door. I was all, "um, won't that tip him off to the surprise?" and Heidi was like, "yeah, he's here . . . he's in the bedroom." Apparently some girls were totally mean to him ON HIS BIRTHDAY (read about it here) and he was sad. Stupid girls. Luckily, there were lots of people and food and drinks and ROCK BAND to make up for the bitchy, bitchy girls he works with.

Have you ever noticed that when Rock Band makes an appearance, everyone gets this manic look in their eyes? A greedy, manic look like, "I WANT TO PLAY ALL THE INSTRUMENTS AT THE SAME TIME AND ALSO SING AND OH MY GOD WHAT IF I DON'T GET TO SING WEEZER?" I'm not kidding. That game turns people into drunk five-year-olds and have you ever been around a drunk five-year-old? If you've been around me when I'm drunk, then that's close enough.

It was pretty awesome. Heidi remembered to strum. We discovered that Tamara is a fucking awesome singer. I got to sing Oasis. Sting inhabited Joe's body for the entirety of Roxanne. It was a little spooky.

This week on The Collective, we're sharing embarrassing stories about ourselves. I'm having a hard time coming up with anything, despite having embarrassed myself on a daily basis for about, oh, 25* years now. A little help? Heidi?

*I say 25, because I couldn't really talk for the first year . . . although, when I was a baby I did routinely poop my pants and that's sort of embarrassing.