Colin Timothy Gagnon (sacredspud) wrote,
Colin Timothy Gagnon

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Bride of Weekend Update Bounces Back

So it's Monday.

Tomorrow at work we're holding a car wash to benefit United Way. Heather and I are in charge of this, and it's been a little messy but after a relatively shaky start and a shakier middle, it looks like it's gonna work out, weather permitting. "Possible thundershowers" are forecasted for tomorrow afternoon and evening, and depending on where I look online, it's either 60%, 30%, or 20%. We'll see. I just finished rinsing out a new set of Shammies, so I hope the $42.15 I spent on them was a good choice. I get reimbursed either way, but they're treated with fish oil, and our basement stinks since that's where they're drying. Moofasa wants very badly to get down there.

Fish oil, incidentally, is incredibly unpleasant if you get acid reflux. My advice is to get flaxseed oil instead. I even bit one of the capsules open once to see what it tasted like, and it didn't kill me (a fish oil capsule came open on me once and damn near did kill me).

Uh, anyway, my weekend. I didn't really feel like doing anything on Friday night, so I didn't. I took a walk. Ate a salad and some blueberries. Turned on the public access channel and saw that they were playing the Mad About the Boy segment of The Magic Christian, so I decided to watch that. It turned out to be part of a variety show and not the actual movie, so I put the movie in and half watched it while I worked on other things. Has anybody on my friends list seen The Magic Christian? I imagine that three or four of you have.

The Magic Christian, for those unfamiliar, is an incredibly strange movie from 1969 which stars Peter Sellers as the world's richest man, and Ringo Starr as a street urchin he adopts as his son. It was written by Terry Southern (who wrote Dr. Strangelove and contributed to Casino Royale), Sellers, and Pythons John Cleese and Graham Chapman. All but Southern are featured, and the movie plays as a loosely-connected series of sketches about the evils of money. Features an odd assortment of celebrities whose names you can't remember, but whom you actually recognize (they're Racquel Welch, Yul Brynner, Peter Graves, Christopher Lee, Spike Milligan, and Roman Polanski, for reference). It's a really weird movie, and it's really entertaining, but definitely not for everybody. Probably better viewed under the influence of controlled substances.

On Saturday I helped my dad work on tearing down a cinderblock building on my parents' old property. It used to be used for extracting and refining honey, but for most of my life it's been storage. Now that the city has finally gotten around to assessing the property (actually getting someone out there to do it has been a long battle), they know that the building decreases the property's value by about $10,000, which doesn't cover the cost of have it torn down professionally. Before the assessment happened my dad had decided that he wanted to tear it down himself. Now he definitely wants to tear it down himself.

Anyway, the building is probably older than my parents and the inner walls have a decades-old patina of mildew. Add to this the fact that the insulation has been moldering all this time, and the job of gutting the inside becomes an extremely daunting task, especially with my allergies. I wore a mask, took a Claratin (or it's generic equivalent, anyway), brought a metric butt-ton of cough drops, and more or less held on to my voice. It was hot, heavy work, it wasn't fun, and (counting cinderblock removal) is only the beginning of the project. It has to get done, though, and it's not like the work isn't good for me. Count on several future posts where I complain about it.

On Saturday night I hung out with Ellen. She made her famous macaroni and cheese and we talked about how appalled her mom is that I don't like James Taylor. I know, my acappella group was surprised too. I bothered her cat, removed the spyware from her computer, and played Connect Four. We talked about music, and I tried to convince her that Kajagoogoo was one of the two most influential artists of the 1980s. It didn't work, but I had a good time anyway.

Later I met up with lord_alucard and Keith, and we went to Rocky Horror where we were joined by crabmoon, the_tick27, and our friend Caleb who, amazingly, does not have a livejournal. It was a fun show. I yelled a lot. The audience was incredibly responsive, although nobody audibly reacted to "YEAH TOAST!!!" which is annoying, since I only do that callback because people recognize it. I don't actually like it. I was asked if I'd like to replace Phil as the new Kyle. I'm not sure. I like the yelling, but not so much the acting when I'd like to be shouting my favorite lines which, let's face it, tend to occur when the criminologist is onscreen. Oh, well. Anyway, tlhinganhom suggested the coupon which you are all expected to redeem, and we went to Country Kitchen where I managed to sit exactly where I'd be bombarded by a million conversations at once, but not be able to satisfactorily participate in any of them. Such is life.

On Sunday -- my God, this is a long post. I don't expect anybody to actually read all this. On Sunday I went to the Race Unity Rally at the Capital, which was exceptionally cool. Music. Dance. An excellent raggae band. Lots and lots of people I know from the parts of my life that I never talk about here. Anyway, it was a great time. I never go to rallies and demonstrations because in my experience, people assume that if you're in favor of one cause, you're in favor of fifty thousand others. The annual Race Unity Rally probably has these people, but not once have they attacked me with flyers and buttons. I came home very tired and slept for a couple of hours, took a long walk, and decided to choose a movie at random out of my DVD collection and watch it. I closed my eyes and picked Tapeheads, which was a fine end to the weekend, mostly because I didn't have to think about it.
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