Saturday Night is All Right for....Bevis?
What started in the summer as an opportunity to control chaos has sort of become a lifestyle change that I've really enjoyed.
You see, rather than tip a few on the weekends I decided to give it up for awhile. I haven't had more than a dozen drinks in ten months. It started out weird, but now I don't even consider ordering a drink.
I must admit that more than a few of my friends are a little perplexed, but I do feel better.
Whatever, this isn't an anti-drinking blog. Even I'm not enough of a hypocrite to say that drinking is evil. It isn't. It's fun.
But, what to do on a Saturday night?
I let my beautiful wife choose the movie. We sat through the same movie that we've seen about four hundred times.
Yep, a romantic comedy. Justin Timberlake and some dark, pretty, "damaged" girl.
First off, neither of these people, despite their angst would ever have a problem getting laid. We are supposed to suspend belief there. Then they hook up, have a misunderstanding, swear each other off as lost causes, have an awakening, a famous final scene, and head off into a life that we know will be filled with days of unending bliss after a long proclamation of dedication.
I glanced over at my Juliet. Sweatpants. Tired eyes. Sick of every one of my dopey jokes. I knew exactly what she would say:
"Ahhh, that's cute."
"Show them twenty years down the line," I said. "Ready to dig one anothers eyes out."
We laughed. Thankfully that isn't how our movie has played out thus far.
Then the boys came in. They wanted the big television. They wanted to chase two former party people up to their rooms at 8:30. Instead, we watched a basketball game. St. Bonaventure versus U.B. We listened to the announcers praise the brilliant student-athletes. They were working to build up guys who will never sniff the NBA.
After one long, drawn-out praise of a guy who made a shot, I turned to Jake.
"And his urine cures cancer!" I said.
The game ended. 9:15. Still not ready for bed.
"How about an episode of Bevis and Butthead?" Jake asked.
Kathy shrugged, so I did too.
Why not?
We are wild and crazy.
And you know what?
We laughed a lot. Sam and Jake laughed with us.
A great Saturday night! But there was more! We had 48 Hours Mystery.
One problem: It started late.
I never made it past the introduction. It was a mystery about whether or not a man killed his wife.
I bet he did it.
He wanted more than just spending quality time watching Bevis and Butthead on a Saturday night.
You see, rather than tip a few on the weekends I decided to give it up for awhile. I haven't had more than a dozen drinks in ten months. It started out weird, but now I don't even consider ordering a drink.
I must admit that more than a few of my friends are a little perplexed, but I do feel better.
Whatever, this isn't an anti-drinking blog. Even I'm not enough of a hypocrite to say that drinking is evil. It isn't. It's fun.
But, what to do on a Saturday night?
I let my beautiful wife choose the movie. We sat through the same movie that we've seen about four hundred times.
Yep, a romantic comedy. Justin Timberlake and some dark, pretty, "damaged" girl.
First off, neither of these people, despite their angst would ever have a problem getting laid. We are supposed to suspend belief there. Then they hook up, have a misunderstanding, swear each other off as lost causes, have an awakening, a famous final scene, and head off into a life that we know will be filled with days of unending bliss after a long proclamation of dedication.
I glanced over at my Juliet. Sweatpants. Tired eyes. Sick of every one of my dopey jokes. I knew exactly what she would say:
"Ahhh, that's cute."
"Show them twenty years down the line," I said. "Ready to dig one anothers eyes out."
We laughed. Thankfully that isn't how our movie has played out thus far.
Then the boys came in. They wanted the big television. They wanted to chase two former party people up to their rooms at 8:30. Instead, we watched a basketball game. St. Bonaventure versus U.B. We listened to the announcers praise the brilliant student-athletes. They were working to build up guys who will never sniff the NBA.
After one long, drawn-out praise of a guy who made a shot, I turned to Jake.
"And his urine cures cancer!" I said.
The game ended. 9:15. Still not ready for bed.
"How about an episode of Bevis and Butthead?" Jake asked.
Kathy shrugged, so I did too.
Why not?
We are wild and crazy.
And you know what?
We laughed a lot. Sam and Jake laughed with us.
A great Saturday night! But there was more! We had 48 Hours Mystery.
One problem: It started late.
I never made it past the introduction. It was a mystery about whether or not a man killed his wife.
I bet he did it.
He wanted more than just spending quality time watching Bevis and Butthead on a Saturday night.
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