The trilogy concluded.
Okay, I've got a night at home to myself. So let's see...I did still want to talk about the rest of my misadventures in the great Northeast (of Pennsylvania) with Hefner. I'll try to be brief, but no promises.
-Watched Revengers Tragedy, which I enjoyed. Come on, murder-happy 16th Century drama + Eddie Izzard + Derek Jacobi as an evil, lipstick-and-fur-clad politician = good times. Also, I got a kick out of Hef's description of leading man James Eccleston as "an ugly Ralph Fiennes". Heh.
-Saints be praised, we decided to wander "outside". We did sort of have a lake in the backyard, after all. So taking advantage of the lovely weather - it's generally ten degrees cooler up there than it is in Maryland - we sat under the trees and chilled for a bit. Hef was reading "A Clockwork Orange", so I performed a staged reading of it while mimicking the voice of Julia Child. Or not.
-Took things down a notch in the afternoon with The Last Boy Scout, an early 90's film from Shane Black (Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang). I inexplicably love Bruce Willis, I'll say that much. This was a flawed movie, but it had violence, football, some snappy dialogue, and a sprightly jig. See, I'm not too hard to please.
-John made us dinner, bangers and mash. Mmmm. It was salty, so it passed the Kevin test. Naturally, we hopped into my Corolla afterward and drove a half-hour round trip into Nicholson just to pick up dessert at the convenience store. I think I had a Klondike Bar. Hefner got yet another Chipwich with a side of bitter disappointment when he checked his cell phone messages and quickly discovered that the high-pitched voice quoting "Charlie the Unicorn" was not his girlfriend, but that it was Ridgaway. Ghastly business, that.
-Back at the cottage for the evening, we turned off the lights and watched a light romantic romp. Oop, never mind. We watched Titus, which is of course Julie Taymor's adaptation of Shakespeare's much-maligned bloodbath "Titus Andronicus", with Anthony Hopkins in the titular role. My God. That's all I can say. This was my turn for the gasps and horrified facial contortions and nervous, confused giggles. But most of all, I couldn't turn away until comeuppance was had by all. If you've seen the movie or are familiar with the events of the play, you'll understand why I took this lesson from it: Dude, remind me never to piss off Anthony Hopkins!
-To end our weekend in the most pathetically comical way I could, I suggested that we drag the fire pit out off of the porch and roast some marshmallows. You can imagine how well this went, what with my legendary love-hate affair with all things flammable. So, let's see...was it dark? (Check.) Was it damp after a fleeting rain storm that afternoon? (Check.) Were John and I clueless city boys who couldn't start a fire without a personal invitation and illustrated instructions? (CheckMATE.) We spent at least forty-five minutes piling wood haphazardly in the pit and tossing lit pieces of paper on top, then watching it quickly flame out without catching. As Hef was just about ready to HULK SMASH on the whole damned thing, my Dad just happened to call. So I ran in to answer the phone, and asked for some helpful hints. Once I had built the twigs and slats of wood into a crude pyramid, we were goodfellas. So yeah, it would figure that the one time I'm trying to start a fire, I can't. It was a very nice nightcap, once we got blazing; marshmallows and apple wine and some good conversation. It's not often that I sit out lakeside at night, but it was very calm and temperate. Plus, I had that pleasant smoky smell in my clothes when all was said and done.
So yeah, a good weekend. It's a shame I won't be able to take anyone up this summer, what with rehearsals and family vacations and the like. But next year? Oh yeah.
-Watched Revengers Tragedy, which I enjoyed. Come on, murder-happy 16th Century drama + Eddie Izzard + Derek Jacobi as an evil, lipstick-and-fur-clad politician = good times. Also, I got a kick out of Hef's description of leading man James Eccleston as "an ugly Ralph Fiennes". Heh.
-Saints be praised, we decided to wander "outside". We did sort of have a lake in the backyard, after all. So taking advantage of the lovely weather - it's generally ten degrees cooler up there than it is in Maryland - we sat under the trees and chilled for a bit. Hef was reading "A Clockwork Orange", so I performed a staged reading of it while mimicking the voice of Julia Child. Or not.
-Took things down a notch in the afternoon with The Last Boy Scout, an early 90's film from Shane Black (Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang). I inexplicably love Bruce Willis, I'll say that much. This was a flawed movie, but it had violence, football, some snappy dialogue, and a sprightly jig. See, I'm not too hard to please.
-John made us dinner, bangers and mash. Mmmm. It was salty, so it passed the Kevin test. Naturally, we hopped into my Corolla afterward and drove a half-hour round trip into Nicholson just to pick up dessert at the convenience store. I think I had a Klondike Bar. Hefner got yet another Chipwich with a side of bitter disappointment when he checked his cell phone messages and quickly discovered that the high-pitched voice quoting "Charlie the Unicorn" was not his girlfriend, but that it was Ridgaway. Ghastly business, that.
-Back at the cottage for the evening, we turned off the lights and watched a light romantic romp. Oop, never mind. We watched Titus, which is of course Julie Taymor's adaptation of Shakespeare's much-maligned bloodbath "Titus Andronicus", with Anthony Hopkins in the titular role. My God. That's all I can say. This was my turn for the gasps and horrified facial contortions and nervous, confused giggles. But most of all, I couldn't turn away until comeuppance was had by all. If you've seen the movie or are familiar with the events of the play, you'll understand why I took this lesson from it: Dude, remind me never to piss off Anthony Hopkins!
-To end our weekend in the most pathetically comical way I could, I suggested that we drag the fire pit out off of the porch and roast some marshmallows. You can imagine how well this went, what with my legendary love-hate affair with all things flammable. So, let's see...was it dark? (Check.) Was it damp after a fleeting rain storm that afternoon? (Check.) Were John and I clueless city boys who couldn't start a fire without a personal invitation and illustrated instructions? (CheckMATE.) We spent at least forty-five minutes piling wood haphazardly in the pit and tossing lit pieces of paper on top, then watching it quickly flame out without catching. As Hef was just about ready to HULK SMASH on the whole damned thing, my Dad just happened to call. So I ran in to answer the phone, and asked for some helpful hints. Once I had built the twigs and slats of wood into a crude pyramid, we were goodfellas. So yeah, it would figure that the one time I'm trying to start a fire, I can't. It was a very nice nightcap, once we got blazing; marshmallows and apple wine and some good conversation. It's not often that I sit out lakeside at night, but it was very calm and temperate. Plus, I had that pleasant smoky smell in my clothes when all was said and done.
So yeah, a good weekend. It's a shame I won't be able to take anyone up this summer, what with rehearsals and family vacations and the like. But next year? Oh yeah.