Might as well tell you what I did Saturday night. It's marked by what I did not do Saturday night.
I told my parents that I was going to "work" at the U. because I thought it'd be better than telling them I'm going to roller derby. So once I told Mother I had to leave by 6 or 6:30 (the bout started at 7), I was done eating at around 5 or 5:30. Perfect!
So after I gas up (only three-fourths of the way because I thought gas was going down, but apparently the price for a barrel of oil shot up 6% today -- whoops!) I go downtown. After a couple of circuits around the area where I think I could find a spot at a meter, I find one as close as possible to the Convention Center, home of the North Star Roller Girls, as I could. And I even saw it and had to turn around because I was on the other side of the street. I thought things were going my way. I was wrong.
I go into the Convention Center, which is across the street. I saw a lot of Somalis milling about, the distinctive smell of jasmine, I believe, wafting in the air. The Convention Center's so huge that several events happen at the same time. There was a golf show happening, too. When I went to the main ballroom, however, the doors were closed. Oh-oh.
So when I was certain that this was the area of the Center where the bout was to take place, I pulled out my ticket. The realization that creeped up my back was realized, though not completely. The ticket said February 26. I'm not proud to admit it, but my first thought was, Oh, shit, I'm here a week early ... wait a second, today isn't the 19th, is it? I then thought I had written it down on my calendar wrong, so I pulled out my Franklin Quest, where I wrote down "NSRG, 7" on the 26th. A part of me still thought it was the 26th, however. Guess I was so embarrassed I ran out of the house for nothing to admit I fucked up. Damn, I hate my scatterbrained-ness.
So, what to do now? I thought about going down to the Megamall -- nah; no reason, and I'd just be wasting gasoline. I didn't want to go to My Favorite Stripclub so early in the evening, though I thought about going after the bout. My big regret is leaving all my stuff behind under the assumption that I wouldn't use it. I then kicked myself because I had some stuff I wanted to write; now I have the time to do it, but I don't have my laptop with me. Well, I thought to myself, there are some huge basketball games going on now, maybe I'll just go to My Favorite Coffeeshop and watch it online -- wait, I don't have my laptop. Didn't I already say that to myself? Man, I hate myself when I'm so goddamn forgetful.
Then I thought that I could at least balance my checkbook ... except that "leaving all my stuff behind" also included my bookbag, which was at home. And so there I was, in the middle of all these Somalis and golf enthusiasts, inside this cavernous edifice, with absolutely nothing to do on a Saturday night. It was the most pathetic I felt in a long time. It sucks being me.
What I did have was my day planner because I felt I could remember my roller derby ticket if I kept it in there. The only productive thing I could do at that point, then, was look through the sheaf of receipts I had put into chronological order and write down the expenses for the past week-and-a-half. It was something I really needed to do; even though I felt like I douche, I pulled up a lounge table and started accounting. I felt good I did it, and yet it still felt like I was punishing myself.
I did drown my sorrows at the titty bar after I left downtown. Then, even though I didn't really feel like it, I worked out at the gym. I had nothing else to do; even though I would be there only an hour, at the very least I could get some good out of the evening by burning off some calories and steam.
Trouble was, there was a family and an older woman in the exercise room already. I could work out, but not by myself, which is my preference. And these guys bogarted all the TV's. I had to wait about 20 minutes before the older woman left so I could change the TV on my side.
There was one sporting event that I would not have been able to see on my laptop, if I remembered to bring it: The NBA Slam Dunk Contest. At least I saw that; in particular, I thought that DeMar DeRozan's down-and-over one-hander was an underrated gem, and that Serge Ibaka's grabbing the toy from the rim with his mouth slam and Blake Griffin's jump over the hood of the car -- replete with a choir singing R. Kelly?? -- were overrated. When did the Slam Dunk Contest turn into performance art? I really was thinking that The Blake Show would jump over the body of the car instead of just the hood. That would've been the tits.
Anyway, one of the kids asked which channel the SDC was on (TNT, Channel 63 in this part of town), so these guys weren't as bad as I initially thought. And I did burn 325+ calories on the treadmill, the only machine I worked out on that night. Dinner at My Favorite Late-Night Spot, and I went home at around 1.
But damn, I wish I would've brought my bookbag and/or laptop. Would've made the night a whole lot better.
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