Now, I know what you're thinking: wasn't there some mention of a dream you had? Yeah, actually I just mentioned it in the previous paragraph. Thanks for reminding me.
Dream (summary): I am sitting somewhere (can't remember) chewing the fat with Bill fucking Gates talking about the public interest law scholarship his dad has at the University of Washington law school. He was asking me questions, quite sassily I remember, like what was the scholarship called and what do you have to do for it. I remember responding by saying something like I am pretty sure it is named after your dad Billy jr. (actually Gates Public Service Law Scholars). (Side bar: I really want that scholarship. In addition to my chances of getting it being like 0% and therefore have to pay full tuition because I am sure, compared to the standard UW Law applicant that is most likely very liberal and resumely versed in the public interest field, I look like a right wing public interest amateur, I do not know if I would go out there so far away from "home". Here is why: if, by very small chance, I find a lady to impregnate and consequently make my parents grandparents, these offspring of mine might be the only grandkids my mom gets to play with because there is an even smaller chance my sisters succeed as well (sorry sisters--it's not our fault, though. mother and father withheld affection from us growing up so we have them to blame for our relationship incompetence. I mean, it certainly isn't my fault I flinch at the touch, no matter how gentle, of another human being. Just kidding. Maybe). I don't want to deny my mom access to these, possibly only, grandkids to which she is so looking forward. So University of Washington Law School determiner of who gets the Bill Gates's Dad Public Interest Scholarship, if you are reading, and I am sure you are, know that because of my affectionless childhood there is a good chance I will be married exclusively to my job, which, ideally, will be a public interest lawyer, so your scholarship will not be granted in vain. You can just paste my acceptance in the comments below for expeditiousness's sake if you would like.)
That's it. Was it worth your time reading about it, or even me writing it? Probably not. <--Check that. Definitely not. But it happened and since everything happens for a reason let's just hope for the best.
What did I really do? Friday I was tired so nothing other than watch the NHL Stanley Cup Finals hockey game and X-Men Origins because Saturday I went to Friendship Heights--an area of DC that is basically an outdoor high-end mall in which I felt more uncomfortable than I would had I been walking around the sketchiest of neighborhoods in the city. But that is probably because I am from Hellertown and am gangster like that. I have uncharacteristically digressed. I meant to finish the Friendship Heights sentence with "and saw the new X Men movie with my mentee/high school friend." Really the two movies were not related but just coincidental that I watched the one on Friday while planning on going on Saturday to the new one. As for Saturday night, yeah, I didn't really do anything either.
Then Sunday. Oh day of rest how you surprise me sometimes. So I am walking to go grab lunch with my bff, pho, when I pass this sports store by my house. They say stuff is like 50% off so I take a gander inside. There really wasn't anything that I would possibly buy in this store, but I am American so I am sold on nothing other than a price deduction of nothing in particular. And it took me a couple minutes to figure this out but on my way out I saw this hat on the hat rack that caught my eye--and the outdoor percentages in large font win. Now I used to be a hat aficionado when I was a youngster, and no hat has really excited me like this one since then, but this one looked very old school and comfortable. It did not have that webbing in the front to prop it up to look like an abe lincoln hat and the brim was smaller than normal ones (6 rows of stitching to the normal 8--I told you I was a hat aficionado). It had the letters BPC on the front so it also had the element of mystery going for it, which even the internet can't explain (my best guess from researching is Battery Park City. I don't know. Do you?) To add to its mystery, the tag on the inside says "Sample. Not for sale." But it was for sale!! And I bought it. Actually, here is a picture of it to show you its awesomeness (one more thing that you can't tell with today's technology, it is very soft. Could I have just showed you this before all those words above? Of course. Remember: quite unblog-worthy weekend, so a hat gets a paragraph. I'm an equal opportunity blogger):
My neck hair was getting sort of mullet-like, so on the way to a coffee shop after lunch I stopped in this random haircut place to get a full haircut because I don't think you can just walk in to a haircut place and be like "hey can you de-mullet me and stop at that?" Especially when the haircut place is primarily spanish-speaking. "De-mullet" doesn't translate. Incidentally, a word of advice: I wouldn't recommend playing hair-cutting-establishment-roulette if you would like your hair to turn out as you imagined it would if you could communicate with the hair cutter person in your primary language. Take it or leave it. Also incidentally, this is why I shaved my head for like 5 years. Saved money and frustration.
While I am doling out advice, this one is for you, new coffee shops: if you want me to frequent your establishment you should have chairs for more than like 6 people. If you don't, you just look like an elitest bitch of a coffee shop that I want to businessly stiffarm. So I won't be going to Flying Fish on Mt. Pleasant St. anytime soon. Besides, Flying Fish is the name of a brewery already so you're failing at being elite by being unoriginal. Not cool.
So, needless to write, I ended up at my regular old coffee shop where I spent my afternoon writing something I may or may not publish here later when/if I ever finish it, which is unlikely (and putting something on the internet is definitely "publishing" it. I am pretty sure if you look up how to site in a bibliography a random blog post it will be like, title of article: "write title of article", source: "the internet, bitch").
Anyway. There went Sunday.
Monday I had off so my roommate and I went golfing. In my earnest attempt to not let him beat me when he had only golfed a few times in his life, I played the best I ever had. Playing golf under pressure will now be added to my resume. And I got a wicked farmer's tan in the process. And that will stay with me forever. No it won't. But the memory will. And that's what counts. Actually, with the average life span lengthening and the propensity for people to get Alzheimer's, the memory probably won't last forever either. But that is what this blog is for. You are probably regretting spending however long it took you to read through this but me, the center of this blog's universe, will be able to look back on this years down the line (if the internet is still around) and reminisce about "This Past Weekend 2011".
But thanks, dedicated reader, for spending the time to get to this here (second to) last sentence. I imagine it was probably not worth it.
Next week we are going to have a guest blogger and his name is relevance. Maybe. Probably not. He's usually not welcome here.
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