The weekend

Our weekend didn’t exactly go as planned.

Friday night: I have no recollection of what we did after we drank Mojitos. I want to say we went to the brewery, but I don’t believe we did. But, we may have eaten lasagna. It’s shocking. I know.

Saturday: We got up an watched qualifying for F1. F1 is the shit. You should start watching it, and making fun of Fernando Alonso like we do around here. He may be Spanish, but that doesn’t me we have to like him. He’s an asshole, but his Renault car did well in qualifying. Just not as well as my favorite Finn, The Ice Man, Kimi Raikkonen. I love when he wins, and gets up on the podium, and even though he just kicked major ass he says shit like “Yeah. It was alright. We did good. It was a good day.” Super straight faced. Never excited. Almost like a zombie. I love that guy.

After that we went to the Farmer’s Market and bought some spinach and beets. They’re still sitting in the fridge.

Then we went and had good Mexican food at Lo Mejor de Michoacan. They’re only good on the weekends though.

Then we worked on the front yard. I caught my shoelace on a rake, and fell down and scraped my arm. This is also, I’m sure, shocking to all of you who know what a clumsy fool I am. There’s a star tattoo on my inner left wrist though, and now it looks like a shooting star. Only in blood and a little off-kilter. It’s sorta cool.

Then we cleaned up and went to the brewery. Yum. We were chatting with Jesse, one of the girls that works in the tasting room, and Chris, another guy who works there, grabbed us our beers without Jesse knowing it. So, Jesse walked over and we happily accepted another White Opal (a seasonal white beer) We were totally double-fisted. Which is awesome.

Stacy also called to tell me that she had to make her own cupcakes on her birthday. And that she was wasted. I totes understand about the cupcakes though. I hate when someone else fucks up my birthday dessert.

Then we ate brats and a couscous salad.  The salad tasted far too healthy with the decadent brats covered in mustard, sauerkraut and jalapenos.

And then we did not sleep because it was hot as Hell here on Saturday, and someone may have had some gas from too much sauerkraut. Sean said it was Frank, but it may have been me.

Sunday: We watched the Spanish GP. Kimi won and was every bit as unscintillating as one would expect. There was about ten scary minutes when Heikki Kovalainen crashed his McLaren into the tire barrier, and Speed didn’t show his status. I thought for sure he had to be dead, and had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Luckily, he just suffered some bumps and bruises, but he wants to race in Turkey in two weeks.

Ferrarri FTW!

Then Sean worked on the yard, which made me cranky because we had already spent one day working on the yard, and that was enough for me.

So, we went to the grocery and bought another round of brats. They were that good. And, I made a potato salad. This potato salad. It felt sufficiently unhealthy enough to eat with sausage. I also made some Pizza Bianca, but the dough was a little troubling because the recipe was originally printed out wrong. I eventually got it right, but I seriously charred the first pizza in the oven. Like super black. I think that’s the first time in my life I’ve ever torched something so badly. Luckily, the mojitos Sean made took to edge out of my abject failure.

The neighbors came over for dinner and drinks. They’re two Cal Poly professors, and we like them a lot. Very absent-minded professory, but fun.

I guess my point in all this is to say: I didn’t get any chile verde, and there were no pictures taken. I keep forgetting.

Tonight we’re having burgers, and more potato salad. Maybe I’ll remember to use my camera.