Tonight, we dine in... Obi Sushi!
J. told two chatty homos to "shut the fuck up, please" as they seemed determined to dispute the historical accuracy of depicted Spartan fighting techniques. Myself, I was busy fantasizing about grabbing the foot of a ghetto fabulous youth to my right and twisting it three-hundred-and-sixty degrees or until I heard the pop. I figured that might suppress his strangely irrational fondness for repeating aloud particularly resonant lines of dialog. All in all, 300 was not as good as the NIN video they used as a trailer, but it did succeed in inspiring myself and my fellow movie-goer to near bloodshed. The state of theater-going etiquette is such that I sometimes question whether it is even worth it.
At least dinner was grand. The local Japanese restaurant does not quite prepare their teriyaki chicken to my liking so I took things up a notch by sneaking in my own bottle of sesame seeds.
I am just about a hair's breadth away from demanding to cook it myself.
At least dinner was grand. The local Japanese restaurant does not quite prepare their teriyaki chicken to my liking so I took things up a notch by sneaking in my own bottle of sesame seeds.
I am just about a hair's breadth away from demanding to cook it myself.