Last night there was a meteor shower. Did you see it? Neither did I. First of all, I have no meteor shower luck. If there's some kind of shooting-star event, I traipse out to some field somewhere, and lie there looking up, then as soon as I get distracted (read: .0000000002 seconds later) and look at my cuticles or at my inevitable bowl of chips,
shoot! shoot! shoot!
there go the stars shooting the crap out themselves. And everyone else says, "There was one!" and I'm all, "WHERE? GodDAMMIT." and then we all commence lying there again and oh, is something wrong with my cuticle?
shoot! shoot! shoot!
Son of a BITCH.
So I never see stars. This did not stop me from schlepping out at EIGHT O'CLOCK AT NIGHT, and I know you're all "That Joob is such a NIGHT OWL" and me calling myself "Joob" is only funny if you read yesterday and why DIDN'T you? Dick.
But really. It was a Monday night. There's no going out starting at 8:00 on a Monday. What am I, 24? But Ned said, "Let's go way out to the country, and we can eat at that Thai place that's so good out there, and I'll bring chairs" and it was seeming like a whole thing so we went.
I was the driver, because I have the GPS, and neither of us can ever remember how to get out to that really good Thai place that's out in the country in a strip mall and it makes no sense that a restaurant that good is slapped between a Jimmy Buffet theme bar and a Salvation Army store, but there it is.
The problem was, when I tried to be all brilliant and put the address in my fucking fucking fucking GPS that NEVER WORKS anymore and I SO NEED a new GPS I think, or do you somehow update the one you have? Someone tell me. Anyway, the GPS said this street did not exist and I wanted to snap it in two and shove the pointy parts up Mr. GPS Inventor's nethers.
So we set the GPS for "center of town" and headed out there.
"You know, maybe they'll be closed on a Monday, or maybe they close at 8:00," said Ned, who always has the comforting words. "Maybe we won't make it."
Did I mention I usually eat BEFORE 8 p.m.? Like, three HOURS before 8 p.m.? And that I was the cranky hungry? "If we get there and it's closed, we're going to Sonic," I said. Ned would rather starve to death and get kwashiorkor and be in a Sally Struthers commercial before he ate at Sonic. Ned does not know from good.Somehow, though, we managed to get to the center of town, FIND the restaurant, and discover it was open till 10:00. The Jimmy Buffet theme bar was dark and quiet, though. Thank god.
"The weather report says it's going to be mostly cloudy," said Ned, in the first half hour of studying his menu.
"THEN WHY DID WE COME ALL THE WAY OUT HERE?" I cranked. I already knew what I was having. The ginger chicken. I considered the drunken noodles but if I wanted a drunken noodle I could have just stayed home and looked at Edsel. Again, only funny if you read yesterday and I'm getting a little sick of your shit.
Somehow while we were eating, we got on the topic of the theme song for Chico and the Man. Which in retrospect was a fine song.
Marvin, if you read this, is that not your car after they show the Boyle Heights sign? I really think that is Marvin's car. Wait. Maybe Marvin's headlights are stacked on top of each other. Oh, I can't remember. Everyone read yesterday. I was funnier.
My POINT is, when we were done with our ginger chicken and large plate of vegetables--and why does Ned even get out of bed every day? If I had to go around being that healthy I'd die of boredom--we headed outside to a perfectly cloudy night.
"I also read that the moon was going to obliterate the stars, anyway," said Ned.
And that is when we went home and YouTubed the Chico and the Man theme song and saw not one meteor even THINKING of taking a shower.