I did it again.
I was up until 5 a.m. downloading comedy mp3s again. I got some good stuff, some Dave Attell, some more Dane Cook, but I don't think it was worth it. I ended up sleeping most of the next day, and got up at 3:30. It was just in time, however.
Turning on my tv to Fox's Saturday Baseball game, I was able to have breakfast while watching the BoSox down the Yankees. This means that Boston is just 2 1/2 back, hopefully just a half after tonight.
The apartmentmates began to join me, and after the game we found the best tv show ever (next to surf girls of course).
It opened like this: Five gay guys drove up in a black SUV, got out and started accosting this straight white guy. Then each one of the gay guy used his special skill (which supposedly from the angle of the show, gay men are allowed to only have one special skill each) to help the straight guy out, as if he were some chairity case.
I tell you, if the governement invested its money in gays instead of things like wellfare, we'd be a better nation.
They cut hair, shopped with, taught cooking skills and even tanned their straight chairty case. And of course, they did it in style. Check out the latest episode this Tuesday at 10 p.m. on Bravo. If you live in Ithaca, you can even come over to watch.
After four or so odd episodes (and I mean odd), I went up to the track to knock off a mile or two. This time, I started with a hard mile, then did some paced laps. In the end, I felt good.
I came back and made dinner. Jason was falling asleep on the couch, so we kept switching back and forth between things on the tv. Eventually the phone rang. It was Rachel.
She was going to get bombed at her cast party -- very cool -- but wanted to apologize for not calling me back the night before. I told her it was completely unecessary and then we set up a "date" for church.
(I put date in qoutes becuase we're not dating, and if we were, church would not be as good of a prelude as say ... dinner and a movie.)
Then the phone rang again. I picked it up, but the person didn't identify themselves.
" Hey. It's Me," they said. Worse still, it was grainy in sound quality and a bit quiet. I thought it might have been my brother, so I just played it out to see what they wanted.
It ended up being Graham.
He had just finished working on his lab report for the night and was on his way to the video store. He wanted to know if he should pick up Rocky. We had discussed how neither of us had ever seen it earlier in the day, and decided that it was a guy's movie night. I told him to do it.
About 10 minutes later we were watching Sylvester Stallone mumble his way through his lines, and the life of one Rocky Balboa. Halfway through, Graham said what I was thinking, the movie kind of sucked.
But then I thought about it. I went into it expecting a good film becuase so many people talk about it as one. Instead, Rocky needs to be approached like any other independent film. Beucase that's what it is.
After I chewed on that for a while, it all made sense, and the movie seemed a little better. That and Sylvester Stallone was talking to people who spoke in complete sentences. Always a plus when you can understand the dialouge.
After that it was time for my pre-bedtime shower.
This morning, I got up just in time to comb out the bed head and put on some clean clothes. Then I met Rachel downstairs for church.
We got there and climbed the stairs, realizing as we picked up the song books that there was to be a baptism. It was a bit strange, having a baptism at a collegiate church, but I like the ceremony so I didn't complain.
The priest known to me as "Father Bob" was once again saying Mass. They announced his real name when Father Mike left, but I didn't retain it. Funny, retention of the things said at mass was a topic of his sermon. I didn't feel bad though when he admitted that it was his own poor retention that brought up the idea.
The baptism threw father Bob for a loop. He fumbled words left and right, skipped parts of the ceremony, and for some reason didn't pour chrism (or oil) on the baby. Far be it from me to argue with a priest, but any good alter and catholic school boy knows you are supposed to use chrism. Ah well, perhaps they have handed down a new church decree. If not, I doubt it's absence has sentenced the child to hell. Well I would hope not.
Father Bob recovered, however. In the end, it was a great ceremony, one surely worthy of God's blessings. That (and I'll go to hell for this) and the godmother was hot! I also didn't notice a wedding ring, which prompted me to think about asking Rachel to hit her with her car, but then my conscience got the better of me. It looked like she had a boyfriend, and he looked bigger than I am.
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