I'm happy that it's the weekend, though I also feel guilty for sitting here dicking around instead of doing productive things like exercising, or doing laundry, or grocery shopping, or cleaning my apartment. This is why three-day weekends would really be ideal: you would have time to do your chores like a good human, AND dick around on the Internet. (Why the sudden use of "dick around"? I don't know. I just like the way it sounds. Maybe I'm channeling Judd Apatow-speak after watching Funny People last weekend and part of Knocked Up last night).
I had an okay week this week, except that there is some kind of devil-pollen (of the weed variety, according to the counts on weather.com) that is causing the upper part of my lungs to close up and me to have to overuse my asthma medicine. So that sucks. I'm sure a lot of it is mental after awhile, too - the more I concentrate on breathing the harder it gets.
Which is why the last two nights I've had a ton of alcohol, because for whatever reason, drinking relieves allergic asthma symptoms for me when all else fails. I have no scientific explanation for this, although my friend Melanie had some blah blah thing about alcohol thinning the blood and moving oxygen through easier or something when we were talking about it at Rio's last night over their excellent and lethal margaritas. I would think it was completely in my head - some sort of relaxation effect or something - except that it works best with white wine, and okay with liquor, and not at all with beer, which is probably my favorite thing to drink on a regular basis. So who knows? In any case it's strange to go to the liquor store and buy a bottle of white wine and then consume half said wine for the express purpose of relieving asthma, like can I get any more blatant with the self-medicating?
But I'm feeling A-OK right now, so either I'm still feeling the effects of last night's 2.5 margaritas and 1.25 beers, or the pollen's just on its best behavior or something. I'm still in that part of the day where I'm contemplating all the things I could do - though most likely I'll get either laundry or groceries done and then go wander around South Broadway with Melanie so we have an excuse to go to Sweet Action ice cream again. (Also, the Big Lots down there is closing and I love me some cheap crap, so hooray for clearance sales).
This past Tuesday I went to Film on the Rocks at Red Rocks with Anna and Melanie. We got there pretty early but still had mediocre seats - apparently there are a lot of people with nothing better to do who get there like mid-afternoon and take up the entire center section. We all ate brats and drank overpriced Bud Light as we waited for the sun to set. It took forever for the movie to start, as even after it got dark the Film on the Rocks people had to blather on about all their sponsors etcetera. Not to mention the local band, Opie Gone Bad, which played a seemingly interminable set beforehand and whose members were having way more fun, for the most part, than those of us in the audience listening to them.
But it was worth the wait. Is there any more fun summer night activity than watching Ghostbusters with ten thousand other people on a giant screen in a beautiful outdoor amphitheatre in 75-degree weather? I doubt it. The best part was that every time the theme song started up, and asked the question, "Who you gonna call?" pretty much all ten thousand of us shouted "Ghostbusters!" and then sang along with the electric guitar part that followed. Excellent. I would definitely go to Film on the Rocks again. And since this post is getting ridiculously long, I'll wrap it up with a few pics from my Film on the Rocks experience. And remember:
"If someone asks you if you're a god you say YES!"
