First off, will someone please make this for me? I would love so much to have a cryogenic chamber mouse. So delightfully creepy. Someone out there, someone who is crafty and good at making things? I am abysmal at making thing -- sewing, carpentry, name a craft and I will be piss poor at it. I can't even paint a bathroom. But, I can take your picture or write a story about you or bake you some sweet motherfucking cupcakes. So, consider it, please.
Last night, we went to see V for Vendetta -- in IMAX, which geeks me out to no end. I love gigantic movies with gigantic sound. The drawback, in this case, is that we have to venture down to Navy Pier for the IMAX experience. Navy Pier on a Saturday night can be an upsetting experience. So many tourists and children and flashing lights and endless kiosks filled with puzzling, inexpensive merchandise! Strangely-themed stores (Chicago Heroes Store -- for Police and Fire Department gear! Russian Doll Store! Christian T-Shirt store -- including this tshirt!) The experience of getting into the theater itself made us all a bit edgy and anxious.
The film was a delight, although we kept laughing at inappropriate places, and we were completely slap-happy giggly after.
The best moment was as we were exiting the theater, when a flat-voiced announcer came on and encouraged us to exit via the designated exits.
Someone behind me yelled, "NO! WE'RE GONNA STAY HERE AND FIGHT!"
Navy Pier was alllll riled up. It's just that kind of film.
Then we went to an old, familiar haunt and consumed many beers, and persued the following topics of conversation:
- Various deformed and mentally challenged and otherwise handicapped types we went to high school with. Apparently, though Susanne's high school had only 57 students, she had an unsually high number of odditities, including a very small hydrocephelatic woman who kept stats for the girls' basketball team, a hairlipped girl named Ruth who, unfortunately, was unable to pronounce her own name, and a mentally retarded night janitor named Jimmy.
Me: How did you know the night janitor?
Susanne: Oooooh. I knew EVERYONE.
Ellen told us about a friend in high school who had a deaf, socially-challenged admirer. Once, she was fighting with her boyfriend in the hallway, when he called her a "Stupid Bitch."
In a romantic, gallant moment of pure chivalry, he admirer came running up, apparently having read the profanities on the boyfriend's lips.
Admirer: DON'T CALL HER A BITCH! SHE'S BEATIFUL!
Friend: SHUT THE FUCK UP! I CAN DEFEND MYSELF!
- Fern Gully. The term "Fern Gully" as an unfortunate euphemism for women's parts. We went into great detail about how "Fern Gully" was appropriate -- including metaphors about machetes, adventures, and moist, musky things. Perhaps not best to reproduce in detail, although I invite you to explore the possibilities yourself. I would like to see it come into more common usage.
- I also took a picture, on my cell phone, of the framed Minnie Mouse poster above the toilet in the women's restroom. That's a sign of a good effing bar.
I wanted to post that picture here, but I can't get it to show up on my Flickr account.
You can't have everything, I suppose.
Finally, Ellen and Katie and I hit Santullo's for a late-night slice and met a curly-haired, flamboyant gay man named Brian who, apparently, is a performer in a one-man play about having a single testicle, called "Balls." He performs the play for audiences at hospitals and medical centers.
Then I went home and passed the eff out. Good times.