Good weekend, yo. Watched some BSG Friday night (season three, no spoilers, please!) and then lazed about Saturday afternoon.
Saturday night is when the fun kicks in though: Lloyd's Birthday. There was barbecue, smug military men, beer (want to be a cheap date? Don't drink for nine months. Trust me. Emily had her buzz on halfway through beer one.), a guitar and a drum set. Oh, and ultimate fighting. Not amongst the guests, but on the tube. All in all, a fun little shindig. Steve is actually dressed down - cargo shorts, t-shirt, flip flops...and I'm in a denim mini and a tank top and flip flops. We were really cute. (there's a reason I just told you that...continue reading) At some point in the night the camera started taking Blue pictures. Not sure what was up with that. But check it out:
Yes, I was playing the drums. No I've never had lessons. I think I rocked. Steve says that he wishes he had taken video instead of stills (camera does both) so that I could hear how much rocking I wasn't actually doing. Silly little man. I'm clearly a Rock Goddess...just look at the photographic proof.
Anyway, we leave at eleven and head down Ross towards home and in the car I get the Best Idea Ever: see if my Boss is at Sunset Lounge (which the firm designed and I've never been to at night). So I call and he is and we u-turn and head to the bar. Because Boss is who he is, we skip the valet and skip the waiting line and head right in. As we go in, I hear a Trendy Chick at the front of the line whine that we're getting in "dressed like that." Bouncer shut her down with: "They designed the bar." Word.
Steve, once we get inside, is mortified that he's walking around a room full of moderately well-dressed Trendy People and he's dressed the worst he dresses EVER. You know Steve. You know this is true. By the end of the (otherwise fabulous) night he's vowed to overdress for everything from now until he dies. And then be overdressed for his funeral. (I think this means White Tie because funerals are a dress-up event anyway....) We go home and sleep.
Sunday morning we wake up and start getting ready for brunch (yummy, fun) and Steve comes out all dressed: slacks, loafers, white french-cuff shirt complete with cuff-links. Ok - the French cuff isn't that unusual when you open his closet and see how many of those he owns. But this was brunch. The only reason he wasn't wearing a jacket is because I was in jeans and a tube top.
Brunch was fun. I'm glad it's brunch season again. I <3 it.
We left brunch and went to a ballet recital. Steve suffered through, but at least he was sitting between Craig and I -- officially the snarky end of the row. And the little kids were pretty funny. So it didn't suck as much as it could have. Although, and here's my dance-snob coming out: our kids will be in a studio if they want to dance. The girls, talented and dedicated as they are, have little dance knowledge outside of what their teacher knows...which is true for anything, but since their recitals are always Disney movies when you say things like "Swan Lake" or "The Red Shoes" or "Bob Fosse" to them they have no idea. And I'm all about broad exposure. Culturally, at least.
I did get some good shots. Considering that they're dancing on a high school auditorium stage with high school kids doing their lighting and there were a million parents taking flash photos and I was using my PHD without its flash and sitting in the 4th row (30ft or so away from the stage)....ok. Considering that, I got some gems. Behold: (Bubble on left leading the babies)
And this is my humor today. Not Work Appropriate but damn funny: