the mystery of the broken screen door

it's been a while since I posted anything here. crazy partying, social climbing, furniture matching, wild raves and hanging out in rooms filled with other pot-heads doesn't leave time enough for something as prosaic as a blog. but i'll trudge on nevertheless.


a bunch of us saw robin williams at the showbox last week. the show was called 'working on new material' but i'd say the material was pretty much ready. the show was a riot. they were checking id's at the entrance. and it wasn't because they were serving alcohol; it was because of the jokes.

robin williams is a very dirty man. very, very dirty man. given that he's about 800 million years old already, he's a very dirty old man. the man shouldn't be allowed to grace the covers of movies like mrs.doubtfire. he would have been more appropriate for the r rated version - "mrs.doubt on fire - the uncensored version". the man uses the f word like punctuation, always makes sure that the dirty words are preceded by a dirty adjective (point to ponder - is the word 'f***ing', used before a portion of the male anatomy, an adjective?). and here's the clincher (pardon the pun) - he keeps grabbing his crotch. and i don't mean in a gentle michael jacksonish stylistic way. this is downright, rude, fingers clenching, jaw clenching grabbing. at first there was a point to the grabbing. towards the end of the show he just went at it like disc brakes on michael shumacher's car in the middle of a race. somewhere down the line he had a fairly long conversation with previously mentioned portion of this anatomy.

the show was extremely funny though. the funniest bit had a heavy indian accent on the phone - "hello, thank you for calling outsourcing, what can we code for you today?".


the next day a few of us watched city of god by fernando meirelles. it ranks right up there with amores perros by Alejandro González Iñárritu for it's vivid imagery, amazing choreography and the sheer simplicity of violence. definitely not for the oprah book club lovers.


and finally after holding my breath for a really long time it was time to head out for the long weekend. and so friday saw 16 of us headed out to lake chelan for some wild partying at an amazing vacation house that had more electronic equipment than a pearl jam concert (just got told that i'm going to a deep purple concert at the white river amphitheater this friday. yaay! thanks rags, and thank god for cool people from austin).


16 people with many crates of alcohol and wild part instincts that were coming up with a vengence make for a fantastic weekend. the weekend included me getting drunk on an extremely small intake of alcohol (damn this low tolerence for liquor thing i'm cursed/blessed with), some funny dancing, board games, lots of table-tennis, some tennis, some ultimate, lotsa swimming, stargazing, holding onto dear life on a small jelly-doughnut shaped float while being dragged through the water at 40 miles an hour behind a speedboat driven by an extremely repressed surgeon (don't ask!) and jumping up and down on a trampoline set on the water a hundred feet from the shore. did i mention the really nice roads for driving? or the really good food that some of the more efficient folks loaded up on at costco? and i've not even mentioned mr.pj's amazing barbequeing/tea-making skills.

the highlight of the trip was obviously the screen door that features in the title of the post. it happened like this: first off, imagine d very drunk, very happy and cheerfully boisterous. somewhere down the line d decided to prove to me and s that he really was wearing boxers. we maintained that we believed the hypothesis and that there was no need for experimental analysis. but d proceeded to prove his theory. but the experiment went out of control and so d ran towards the porch to pull his pants back up. to this description i must add the crucial bit that d was wearing sunglasses inside the house at about 10:00 pm. the sunglasses made it hard for him to see the screen door and he promptly put his foot through it. next he put a steadying hand through the screen door which fell off the frame and ended its short life on a conveniently located deck chair. apart from the hilarity and potential for ribbing, the only other good thing that came off this encounter was that d proved his theory. qed.


these guys brought out a cake for my b'day (if you're reading this, thanks n!) which was delicious. most people had to take n's word for it being delicious because the cake played an important part in another of d's escapades - the upside down cake episode.


after the usual huffing on the candle and the cutting, d picked the cake up and began prancing around the hardwood floors. somewhere in the middle of this idyllic prance, he decided to feed the wall-clock some cake. the next few moments are shrouded in mystery but the cake ended up face down on the floor. i think we still managed to get a few good bits out of it though!


and since she had missed out on the chelan trip g convinced b, u, k and her sister to take me to dinner at an italian joint where i unflinchingly performed d's 'save the cow' joke (don't ask, you have to be there to appreciate it). i bought myself a cool watch but g kept making fun of it over dinner. although it just enforced my internal 'this watch is cool' factor, i exchanged it for another today.


and that's it for today. classes start end of the month, i'm trying to con them into letting me take an 'independent study' class instead of the core classes. i'm starting to miss the 'dear respected sir' form letters we bulk-mailed while applying to grad school!


i'd like to end with a quote (possibly the worst macho-bulls*** i've ever seen) from the punisher. so this guys family was anihilated (again, don't ask why - you have to be there to appreciate it) and he's all decked up to kill some bad-ass guys. a completely under-utilized witch-doctor calls out to him "go with god" and the man goes (dripping so much machismo that the spot boy had to clean up after him on the sets while filming that shot) - "god will have to sit this one out".


bleep.