It’s been an interesting couple of days here. Thursday was Halloween, so Swac, Mandace and I headed off to Max and Ermas. (Max and Ermas –> My home away from home, that happens to serve food. You know you’ve been going to a place quite a bit when you can just show up, and the hostess knows who you are, how many in your party, and whose section you want to sit in.. Then your server knows your name, your drink preference, your Good Neighbor number, [and probably your credit card number], and what options you want with any meal you might order. Then the manager sits down next to you and talks to you for a while, mentioning that you more than likely single-handedly pay her paycheck. Tis a fine, fine place.). The employees of Max and Ermas were all dressed up for Halloween, so we couldn’t pass up a chance to see the lovely Tressa (the finest server ever) dressed up. Turns out she was Smurfette, and yes, it was quite funny. You had your pick of Marines, evil clowns, doctors in scrubs, cowboys, men dressed as women, etc. Yup, fun times.
So I’m watching the Lions game as I’m writing this, using my fantabulous blended TV dealie, and it’s quite possibly the most boring Football game ever witnessed by man. Anyway, I’ve come to find that I really, really hate those commercials that make it seem as though I owe my car something. Here’s an example: “You’re car has always been there for you, isn’t it time you reward it?” Then they explain why I should buy some sort of fuel cleaning something or other. First of all, my car hasn’t always been there for me. My car has hung me out to dry on quite a few occasions. I seem to recall being stranded in Indiana for a while thanks to my car’s loyal devotion to me. So giving my car anything but the finger doesn’t seem like much of a good idea. Second, I bought the stupid thing, so the way I see it, my car owes me quite a healthy chunk of money. And on top of that, I’ve added a nice stereo, I’ve gassed and oiled the thing repeatedly, I pay more for insurance on the thing than my life is currently worth, and I even washed and waxed the stupid thing many, many times. So when it comes down to it, I treat the car nicer than I treat myself. I certainly feed it more often than I feed myself, anyway. So no, I don’t believe I’ll be rewarding my car any time soon, and if it acts up, it’ll wind up in a ditch somewhere.
Before I started this entry, I threw a pizza in the oven, and I forgot about it until now. Sad, very sad.
Friday night I headed off with Joel, Tuuk, Jeff, Mark, and Pat saw Punch-Drunk Love, and it was excellent. Tuuk made and a good comment about it that I wholeheartedly agreed with: Basically, it was painful to watch at times because you become so attached to the character, and can easily identify with his predicaments. Those of you that have seen it, the “bye-bye, bye-bye, bye-bye” scene is exactly how I feel after most conversations with a girl. (“Have fun with that policeman guy interview thing”). It’s just inevitable.
Saturday was another interesting day. I spent much of the morning out and about, trying to find a bow-tie, which wasn’t the most fun. But I got a phone call midway through that made it far more entertaining. I got to be one of those “I’m too important to just be shopping, I need to talk and shop at the same time” kinda people for a while… until my phone cut out… and yes, I usually hate those people, but that’s because I’m a hypocrite. But, why, you ask, did I need a bow-tie!? Yea. My good friend Tim Vroom, of perlmonks fame, invited me to a murder mystery party thing out in Lansing. I was the butler, Jenkins Jenkins. No, I didn’t do it. In true butler fashion, I showed up, and was instantly employed washing dishes, then welcoming guests/taking their coats/serving the wine. I’d never been to one of these deals before, but it turned out to be quite fun. Turns out I was an old Soviet spy and I was about to be turned over to the CIA, but the one who was going to turn me in was conveniently murdered just in time. And there was much rejoicing. So I’ve got some pictures of the thing you’re welcome to check out. I had to head home right afterwards, as I had to teach Sunday school Sunday morning at my church, but I swung by Calvin on the way home and got to talk to the lovely Deedre, looking stunning as always. It’s an unfortunate reality that when in the presence of a beautiful girl I turn into a bumbling fool, but there we have it. Oh yeah.. In true Ron fashion, half way to her place I realized I was still dressed like a butler.
In my Sunday school class today, one of my kids managed to get his arm stuck in his chair. I found it quite amusing. Then again, I still find it amusing that these kids look to me as an authority figure. The world is coming to an end.