Listening to: Guster, “Backyard”
What a weekend…it just flew right by.
Saw 1408 on Friday, and I highly recommend it. It doesn’t rely on the blood, guts, gore, and cheap shocks that the current crop of horror flicks can’t do without. Pure psychological suspense, some nice cinematography, and of course, JOHN CUSACK. But to his credit, he distracted me from the fact that he’s JOHN CUSACK, and many times I found myself getting caught up in the movie instead of thinking, “Mmmmm….CUSACK….”
Ahem. Okay, enough about my everlasting love for the Cusack. Moving on.
Saturday, we went to a Cajun Fest in Norfolk. They had authentic N’Awlins food…but we didn’t get to try any, because the lines were so damn long. Tried to ignore the pure irony of eating “Pennsylvania Dutch Funnel Cake” (note: in PA, we just call it “Funnel Cake”. No need to make it all special with the PA Dutch part) in Virginia, with Cajun food surrounding me on all sides. It was the shortest line.
Our main reason in going was that Blues Traveler was headlining the festival. Of course, I called my brother to brag prior to the show–he’s been wanting to see Blues Traveler for years. I got called a few nasty names, all in good fun.
They put on a great show, and we had a great time. At one point, we wandered over to the water’s edge and chilled for a while. There were a few boats docked there, and The Husband brought up an interesting question:
If you had a boat, what would you name it?
I decided I would have to have two boats. One named “Five o’Clock” (get it? Because then I could say, “It’s five o’clock somewhere…right here!” Yeah, I know, real original. Shut up, I still like it). The other would be named…are you ready? Okay. “Bestseller”.
Yeah, I know.
We had a drink at a nice place by the river while we waited for traffic to die down, then started the walk to the parking garage. Before we departed the riverside area, we spotted a docked boat that, as The Husband said, looked “interesting.” It had a grill on the roof, and a roaring party seemed to be in full swing.
“That’s the party boat,” The Husband said. “That’s the one that never leaves the dock.”
“Yeah, because the captain’s drunk,” I added.
The Party Boat earned its name when one of its occupants called out to us.
“Hey!” he yelled. “Blond girl! Blond girl in America! Wooohooooo!”
I rewarded his sharp observational skills–I am, in fact, blond, I am female, and I am in America–with a thumbs up. This encouraged him.
“Blond girl in America! This is great! This is–how you say?–rock on! Rock on!”
Well, I couldn’t help myself. We kept walking, but I held up one hand and threw the devil horns.