At the End of This, You’re Both Going to Die

(If you haven’t yet, you should probably read about my desperate love of French fries. Just sayin’.)

After the long food coma that was Friday night and Saturday morning, I spent the rest of my Saturday eating small meals of leftover Cracked Pepper Steak and basil French fries while alternately taking long hot baths with eucalyptus bath salts and watching old movies from the comfort of my bed. Tomorrow I’ll get to those freelance projects, I said. Tomorrow.

Then there was Saturday night, which was the first time in several years that I’ve gone to the ballet. And, delightfully, the ballet in question was Romeo and Juliet. I say delightfully because it’s a beautiful play. But I know that the delight was somewhat subdued due to everyone knowing the punchline.

Hey, you two blissfully happy young people in tights…at the end of this play, you’re both going to die.

Still. Fabulous.

And made even more fabulous still by the company. I mean, how can you not have fun when Pookie the Raven, smiling and laughing, is leading groups of elderly people to the possibly-hard-to-find elevators in the parking garage while waving a flask back and forth like a conductor. And then coining the phrase “thigh taunting” while a very strong male ballerina (is the word still ballerina when it’s a boy?) popped his knees out while the small screens in front of us informed us that he was taunting one of Juliet’s relatives.

After the ballet, myself, Pookie the Raven, Pookie’s the Raven’s best friend (who also has season tickets to the ballet and, thus, was with us) and his roommate made our way down to a chic restaurant/bar with exposed brick walls and beautiful ironwork. I had an interesting mushroom soup while the boys drank and commented on the ballet’s strange hats, why men should not wear tights, why men should always wear tights while they are sword fighting, etc.

And then, anticipating an early morning of walking for miles, I put the kabash on the evening and spent a pleasant 20 minutes listening to Pookie the Raven sing Phantom of the Opera in the car.

In all, a good night.

(To be continued. Again.)