three weekend things
March 2, 2009
The trey, the trifecta, the triple, the triumvirate.
Isn’t that how things happen? In threes? I mean, I don’t love the number 3, no, I love the number 6, but is it any coincidence that 3 is HALF of 6? I say No, NOT a coincidence.
Of course, now I’m just babbling, totally reaching for a clever way to say that I have three things from this past weekend to talk about. Bob will tell me that I’m being a spendthrift, that I’m just WASTING material, that I should conserve and milk these three things so I have stuff to write about all week.
That’s how I roll. We work without a net here at . . . wait, WHAT do we call this blog?
Anyway. Three things.
First. Friday night, me, Kim, Rick, and Shelle went to a delightful little restaurant downtown called Faustina. Yummy.
Of course, even delightful stuff can be weird, or have weird stuff. Like, for example, in the bathroom.
It’s hard to tell just from this picture what’s so weird.
Those faucet handles are freaking TINY. Seriously, you have to use your thumb and forefinger to turn the water on and off. I wish I were in the room when the industrial designer who came up with that turned this design in.
“I present . . . the LITTLE faucet!”
“That’s not little. It’s TINY!”
“Yes, I like it. Let’s call it then, the TINY faucet. Because we hate our users. At least those with adult-sized hands.”
Second. After dinner, we stopped at Harmons on the way home to pick up a couple of sundries, including, of course, a taste of gelato. While wandering the aisles I thought for a moment that I had wandered into the twilight zone.
Check it out.
It’s hard to get a sense of scale from this picture, although you DO get a sense of the creepiness. Plus, the sign says “Giant Bunnies.” You know. In case you’re in the market.
For better scale, here’s Shelle with her favorite bunny:
And Kim, with hers:
That’s right, these giant bunnies are GIANT. And creepy. And probably for people who couldn’t have children of their own. I imagine the target audience is people like Kathy Bates in Misery.
(Very weird side weirdness–I ran into another guy in the store who was taking pictures of the giant bunnies. I am not alone.)
And, Three. Sunday afternoon, we went to Kim’s dad’s house to celebrate Ian’s birthday. I went into the closet to find a shirt to wear, and discovered that Kim had straightened up the closet, and re-organized a bit.
I grabbed a shirt I didn’t even remember having. And later, I went to put a pack of gum in the breast pocket. Jackpot!
Finding money in a pocket, even if it’s just like a buck or two (this was NINE bucks), is a joyous experience.
In this case, I found money AND an old movie ticket stub. Let’s take a closer look:
Apparently, the last time I wore this shirt was to see Oceans Twelve (a very unfunny, stupid, preening, winking sequel to Oceans Eleven. Oceans Thirteen took them back to Vegas, and got them back on track.) on December 12, 2004. Over FOUR years ago.
After which, I clearly didn’t put the shirt in the dirty clothes bin, but rather put it somewhere in my closet.
But still, nine bucks is nine bucks. Maybe I’ll buy one of those giant bunnies.