This, That, And The Other Thing
How do you salvage a weekend that started with the movie "Daddy Daycare?"
Answer: You don't.
Melissa drove down to Rochester after work on Friday, arriving at my place while I was out on a five mile run. During the run, I passed the nurse who I dated for a couple of months last year. It was one of those moments when I chose to pretend I didn't see her, and hoped she did the same thing. We made brief eye contact, long enough for her to shoot daggers of recollection through me, and then she frowned and flicked her head to the side. I ran faster.
Again, I ask all of you out there: is there a good way to break up with somebody that doesn't leave them perpetually pissed at you?
I arrived back at my place and gave Melissa a sweaty hello kiss as she ticked at my computer doing homework. She informed me that her sister (Jenny) and her sister's husband (Chris) were in Rochester and they wanted to do something with us that night. Oh. Swell.
Now, I don't dislike Jenny or Chris, but there are many things I'd rather do than hang out with them, starting with scuffing my eyes with 60 grit sandpaper. Jenny just doesn't have any apparent personality beyond pleasing her husband. It's always, "what do you think, honey?," and "whatever you want to do, honey." Blech. As for Chris, he's an ex-marine who has taken it upon himself to exude every stereotypical attribute of an ex-marine. It's a lethal combination.
The choices were a.) go to Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner and drinks, or b.) go to a movie. Because Buffalo Wild Wings would have required me to converse with Jenny and Chris, I opted for the movie. The movie, it turned out, was the Grade A cinema stink bomb, "Daddy Daycare." I tried to explain to Melissa that Eddie Murphy doesn't make good movies ("Coming To America" being the exception, and he had to steal that idea anyway), and that we would be better off watching anything else, even possibly "Kangaroo Jack." But, the decision was made that we were to watch "Daddy Daycare," so that was that.
So, for the next two hours, I watched Eddie Murphy and some actor who looked suspciously like the long-lost twin brother of George Wendt go about trying to run a daycare business. *cue the potty training jokes and sad plotline that depends heavily on the cuteness of the children* Oh, it was torturous. Even now, as I try to think of one redeemable aspect of the film, I'm drawing a blank. Oh, wait, there were two knock out hot women in the flick (no, not Angelica Huston), so there was that, and there was a funny character that was heavy into Star Trek and comic books, so I suppose that was all right. But that was it. The movie sucked.
Saturday I was able to duck out, yet again, from doing anything with Jenny and Chris because I had plans to attend an arena football game with my state trooper friend, Troy. I don't follow arena football, but the tickets were free so I figured why not. Arena football is just like regular football, divided by half. Half the size, half the crowd, half the excitement. Okay, I'm being harsh. I actually enjoyed the game. It was entertaining watching players who barely get paid $100 per game. That's not enough to pay for the Icy Hot and Ben Gay they no doubt have to slather themselves with after each game.
After the game, Troy showed me some recent accident reports that he had on hand that involved fatalities. When Troy and I were roommates in college, I never dreamed he'd ever one day show me pictures of dead people he photographed as part of his job, but there we were. First, he showed me pictures of a motorcycle accident where the driver was wearing a helmet (he lived) and his girlfriend passenger was not (she didn't). Just for the record, death is not very photogenic. The girl was a pretty little thing, judging by her license photo, but there was not much pretty about her when she was laying on a gravel shoulder, her face splattered with blood, the back of her head seeping an apparently endless puddle of crimson, and her shirt and bra unceremoniously pulled out of the way to make room for a useless attempt to shock her heart back to life. She was likely dead the moment her head struck the guard rail and her skull was crushed like an eggshell. Wear a helmet, people. fucking-A.
I got back home at about 11 p.m. and called Mel to tell her I was home. She came over and promptly started giving me a lecture about how I don't want to hang out with Jenny and Chris. She wants me to like them and for them to like me. I explained to her that I don't care if they like me or not. That didn't go over too well. I spent the next hour or so trying to dig myself out of that little predicament, finally acquiescing to play cards with them or something sometime in the future. Hey, it was late and I was tired, so I simply had to compromise.
Sunday I sat on my ass playing Medal of Honor. I beat the game and ran to Best Buy quick to purchase the expansion pack.
So, yeah, I'm a loser.
Posted by Ryan at May 12, 2003 01:35 PM
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