murder most foul

This weekend began with a rainy baseball game and ended with a murder mystery. Joe and I met my parents on Friday at Brixx, a restaurant/pub type thing across the street from the stadium. We were really pushing it to make it to the 7 o'clock game, but as the sky was turning a little Angry Thunder Face, we decided to eat dinner and drink some beers before heading over. As my dad pointed out, beer is cheaper at Brixx than it is at the game, and who am I to argue with such logic in this economy?

So I ate a burger topped in salsa and jalapenos (YUM) and somehow we ended up with not one, not two, but THREE baskets of chips and queso and try as we might, we just couldn't eat all that cheese. We gave it a good effort, though, even turning our waffle fries into CHEESE waffle fries and later that night I realized that I should not eat so much cheese in one sitting. IT'S SO GOOD. Shut up, stomach, you'll eat 10 pounds of cheese AND YOU'LL LIKE IT.

Anyway, we got rained on at the game PLUS ALSO they lost PLUS ALSO I swear to everything holy there were bats flying around but everyone was all, "no, Jennie, they're birds" but they've never been traumatized by a bat so their opinions don't count.

Because of the whole rained-on thing, any plans for a postgame drink were abandoned because as much as I like bars, I do not like sitting in them when half of my butt is encased in wet, slowly-drying jeans, so instead Joe and I changed into pajamas and watched Aliens and I might have whimpered like a little girl in parts but OMG YOU GUYS, Kat was right, aliens are effing terrifying. True story.

We saw Inglourious Basterds on Saturday, which ALSO might have made me whimper like a little girl in parts but that is because Quentin Tarantino is a sick bastard (basterd?). Good movie, though. I read a review somewhere that described Brad Pitt as "Coen-brothers perfect" and that might be the most apt description of his performance, like, EVER. My point is, you should definitely go see it, just be forewarned that you may never look at Ryan the Temp the same way after you've seen him scalp someone. Um. Spoiler?

And then Sunday. What to say about Sunday? I thought about working out after I saw Joe's brother Facebook that he had just signed up for a 5K, but instead I sat under a blanket and read my book for most of the afternoon. I eventually dragged myself off of the couch so I could get ready for the BBQ/Birthday Party/Murder Mystery Party that Joe's friends were throwing. All I have to say is, whoever assigned the characters must read this blog because part of my character's description was about how she tells long, rambling stories that go nowhere and if that's not the theme of this blog then I don't know what is. It turns out that the butler doesn't always do it because, in this case, THERE WAS NO BUTLER and also I discovered I suck at murder mysteries because I mostly just sat back and giggled at everyone, forgot to pay attention to any of the clues, and guessed myself as the murderer just because I had no idea.

Later we played cornhole and I did better at that. For one game anyway. But I totally counted it as exercise because I was, you know, standing and holding a cup and stuff. I meant to get up early this morning and work out, but the fallish breeze was blowing in and it was so warm under the covers that I couldn't drag myself out of bed any sooner than I had to.

Tonight, Heidi and I are going to Nancy's for wine and pizza and catching up, because I'm trying this new thing where I drag the weekend kicking and screaming into the week so I don't notice that it's Monday. It would be a lot more effective, I think, if I wasn't sitting at work right now.