Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Crazy weekend.

After a late night of babysitting Friday night, Saturday was a long day. The weather was phenomenally perfect, so I did some cleanup of my flower beds. Shawn came and picked me up, and we went to Pho '97 for some A+ Vietnamese noodle soup. I polished off some spring rolls and an entire "big bowl" of pho. On the way downtown we were near the river market and it came to light that he had never been there. I would put the river market on a Saturday on the top 10 things to do on a regular basis in Kansas City. We made a detour and I think it's on his list now, too. We scoped it out with plans to come back after the auto show. . . which we did. I stocked up on produce, because it's so inexpensive there. He bought a rabbit from the butcher shop with the intentions of letting his dog devour it. I want video. The auto show was great eye candy. I got to sit in cars that cost more than my house. "Don't fart in there or they'll make you buy it." Yeah right.

The mixed martial arts fights at Memorial Hall were pretty good.  The venue didn't sell out, but at those prices, I'm not shocked.  I was pretty thrilled to get to conversate with Matt Hughes and Tim Silvia.  I have autographed t-shirts and I'm been kicking myself for not having my camera with me.  I'd surely have a video of a guy getting thrown down, but posting his arm to try to catch himself instead of the prescribed tuck-n-roll.  He threw his shoulder out.  Matt Hughes was the official for that one.  He pulled the other fighter off of him and held the guy's arm/clavicle in place until the paramedics ran into the cage.  I respect the risk those fighters take, but I think knowing how to land would be a prerequisite for even signing up to try it.  I was there with George and his compadres Brian and Scott.  We grabbed dinner at Uno on the Plaza.  I did not know that you could get a good steak dinner in this town that close to midnight.

Fast forward to the house party at Jason's house.  Guitar Hero.  Trash can punch.  Nuff said.  When the host passes out, that does not mean the party should wind down, necessarily.  And it didn't.  I'd like to say I made it home safely.  But I didn't even go home.  A few episodes of Trailer Park Boys at Adam B's house and I was down for the count.  I awoke at 7:24am andslipped out.  I proceeded to drive my brother and his kids to Arkansas to meet up with my folks.  The neice wanted to go stay with her Nanna.  The trip home was harrowing.  I was keeping a close eye on some very scary clouds.  Just when they got the scariest, it started raining very hard.  I was sort of relieved because I know that if there was a tornado, it was rain-wrapped and wouldn't be dangerous.  Then the hail started pummeling my poor car.  Then the hail started falling sideways.  Then the car started rocking side to side.  We sat through that for a few minutes and it let up a bit.  We proceeded, because that was not the place to be.  The ground was completely covered in hail stones.  It appeared as if the ground was snow-covered.  It was like that for the next mile.  There was a truck with a flat trailer stuck in the median.  When we broke into the clear, the car was acting sluggish.  Something's wrong with the engine.  It's two days since I had it towed from Belton to the shop I use in KC (for surprisingly little money), and they're just getting around to looking at it.  I have no idea, but we were very near the studio where Rich's band was set to record, so Mickey came and picked us up.  I missed my hockey game.  Lisa gave me a ride back to my Jeep, which I've been driving since.  And that's how good weekends go wrong.  I just went straight to bed.  I woke up Monday feeling great, though, and I'm on a roll.


  1. I love the City Market, but we're 40 miles east, in the boonies, and never go.  Last year we and some friends went to the Steamboat Arabia museum and loved it.  When I read your journal I feel like a regular stick-in-the-mud.

  2. If the party wound down every time the host passed out my parties would always suck! Man, that punch sure packed some freakin punch. Ugh. I wanted to die Sunday. In fact, it's possible that I might have.