Oh, What A Night!

Worst song ever.  It is interesting to me that half of The Four Seasons' portfolio makes you wistful while the other half makes you want to beat Frankie with a bag full of mason jars.

This weekend, the in-laws took Matthew so we could have a seven-hour long date extravaganza.  It was enjoyed by one and all.  First, we went to see Argo, which was amazing--so amazing, in fact, that as soon as we are admitted into the Academy, our ballots for Best Picture will no longer be going to Lincoln.  Lincoln was also fantastic, but not in the grab-you-by-the-crotch sort of way that Argo was fantastic.  Since figurative genital discomfort is my only criteria for Oscar distribution, Argo wins.

After the movie, we decided to go to Ben & Jerry's for some Raspberry Chocolate Chunk frozen yogurt.  However, we did not do so before enjoying the credits, which were narrated by the world's most self-aware woman.  Seriously.

"BEN.  AFFLECK."

"JOHN.  GOODMAN."

"THIS MOVIE WAS REALLY GOO... ALAN.  ARKIN.  I LIKE HIM."

There is no higher form of humor than a gross lack of self-awareness.  This woman was top-shelf.  The whole theater was completely silent, watching the slide show that was accompanying the credits.  And listening to a woman who apparently enjoys the collective works of Alan Arkin.

Following the riveting spoken word piece, we enjoyed our frozen yogurt.  We then took a picture on my iPhone.

Aside: remember the cameras with flashbulbs?  This was my first camera, although mine was actually blue.  My brother's was that bizarre pink-purple color.  I wonder how people would react if I pulled it out at a bar.  I am often taking impromptu pictures at bars.  I think they would smile.  Might get annoyed when I asked them to wait while I wound the film to the next available exposure.

After the movie, we met the Schneiders for dinner at q, a BBQ place in the city.  The head chef has starred on numerous TLC and Food Network shows and personally provides patrons with an autographed photo on their birthday.  We learned this when she provided such a photo to Johnny for his birthday.  The food, as you would imagine, didn't suck.  A little different than the BBQ places we were used to in Wisconsin, however.  Not too many $300 pork shoulders in Milwaukee, unless they come with one month's use of a Camry.  We did not order the pork shoulder.

Finally, we ran into an old classmate of ours on our walk back to the car, a dude named Jesse who E did theatre with.  He clearly had no idea who I was, but remembered her.  As we talked, E brought up the fact that the only reason she and I ever met was because she and Jesse talked too much in Spanish class, so the teacher moved E to sit near me instead.  Fourteen years later, there are two children that have been created due to Jesse and E never shutting up.  I am thankful for that.  I am especially thankful that the teacher moved E, and not Jesse, to sit by me.  Otherwise, I would be married to a guy named Jesse and the two kids would be some sort of bizarre circus freaks the media would never leave alone.  Yucky.