My oven and microwave died over the holiday weekend. It was the original appliance that came with my town home (circa 1983; an era renowned for flip-clock displays and record players). On Friday night, She Who Will Not Be Named and I rented a movie, made a few rum and Cokes and threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. After attempting to cook the bag of popcorn for half an hour, I concluded that the microwave no longer worked. Last night, after my hockey game, I came home to grill a steak and attempted to make a baked potato in the oven. The oven door got stuck and would not open. Tonight I am heading over to Sears to purchase a new oven-range combo. It will be refreshing to have appliances with digital displays and timers that I do not have to wind.
An insane amount of freelance work is keeping me busy as of late. So busy in fact, that I went into more debt to buy a new computer. A Power Mac G4. Go ahead. I will wait while you clean your shorts. I love it and the freshly connected broadband internet access (you should see how amazing porn looks on this monitor). I am anticipating a good return on the investment. Is there anyone out there that needs for a web designer?
Nels and Kerry’s wedding went off without a hitch. Many spirits were imbibed, there was more dancing than an MC Hammer video and good times were had by all. I performed my best man duties with dignity and ease and avoided a candelabra incident during the ceremony thanks to my cat like reflexes. The minister unknowingly bumped a candelabra that would have sent the quaint chapel up in flames if it had not been caught. I did this without anyone in the congregation noticing a damn thing, moving swift and silently like a ninja on a rooftop.
My hockey league’s regular season ended last Sunday. I was second in points on the team with 8 goals, 12 assists and 9 penalty minutes. We ended up in fifth place and are battling the fourth seeded Fighting Trout this Sunday. The Slashing Hyenas are in prime position to take it all the way to the house. My dreams of hoisting the Bladium Cup over my head and drinking in the sweet nectars of victory as I skate around the former airplane hangar in my jock strap to a cheering crowd of seven people will hopefully come to fruition.