Posted: May 5, 2008 in Uncategorized

Despite the increasingly irritating state of work, peaking in fits of rage, my weekend was actually quite successful, especially in forgetting said rage-inducing work issues.

Thursday was not starting out well, as my original plans to meet with some people for the premier of Iron Man were cut short by a scheduled conference call at the same time the movie started, which was then canceled just before it began. But as luck would have it, just the day before I’d found out that Kaki King was in town opening for the Foo Fighters, and was playing a small show that night on Oxford Street at the Oxford Art Factory. I’d only seen Kaki once before five years ago, that time opening at the WOW for Robert Randolph, where she put on a hell of a show, right before The Family Band blew my mind and my hearing for two days. And again, she put on a hell of a show, although this time there was no Ol’ Man Dancin on the sidelines, and a much higher percentage of lesbians, which is saying something compared to a Eugene audience.

Saturday was a lazy day, rounded out a few apartments down for a “boys night out”, which really translated into a bunch of guys sitting around laughing at Talladega Nights with beer and pizza, which gradually degraded into drinking straight Malibu rum and loudly contrasting football, rugby, and cricket. By the time we actually made it into the city, it was really only destined to spiral downhill, and after being rejected entry to several places, I called it a night based on the universal rule that when no place wants you, you want no part of those that let you in.

Sunday was another late start, but managed to pack in kayaking in Balmoral and dinner and drinks after at the Union Hotel. Some eight or nine of us all convened out on the water, initially trying desperately to stay dry, but eventually foregoing that to desperately avoid being run over by very large boats. By the time we made it back to the beach, half of us were drenched, mostly by each other. But, on the plus side, everyone managed to avoid being eaten by sharks, which Kelly kept insisting were everywhere and would devour you in a mad frenzy if you were the poor soul who fell out of their boat. Thankfully for one of us, this turned out not to be the case, not that this stopped Kelly from yelling the unhelpful advice, “Watch out for sharks!” as he swam to shore. As a celebration of not being eaten OR run over, we all devoured burgers and beer, and retreated home, myself resigned to the fact that the next day I’d undoubtedly be pissed off all over again.

But at least I hadn’t been eaten by a shark.

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