"Why Does the Building Keep Blowing Up?"

This weekend was filled with sightings and reasons to blog (it also helped that my friends constantly gave me suggestions on what to blog about).

Friday. Dinner at Elmo. We spotted Ryan from Road Rules/Real World Challenge/Gauntlet/Fresh Meat fame. One of those at least. It took some awkwardness (which I am king of), but after about the 10th glaringly obvious stare, it was confirmed by comparing his picture found on an iPhone and his likeness in person as he zoomed by our table.

Next up, Ultra. Birthday Party. We (four smartly dressed men) were denied admission, save a $40 cover. Come back an hour later with the birthday boy already inside and one lady accompanying us (evidently, a guy/girl ratio of five to one is the absolute maximum allowed at NYC area clubs), we were in. Music was great, expect that every 30 seconds the song would change. Just as you're about to hit the best part of, say, a Bon Jovi classic, it would switch to the Killers. Give me a break. I'm old. I need at least two minutes of a song to actually enjoy it.

Saturday. Bond. Good, not great. We bought tickets for the 5pm showing, ended up being way oversold, and waited for the 5:40. This turned out to be quite the right decision. Soon after standing in line at the theater entrance, the group ahead of us began chatting it up. Two things. First, they were talking about movies in the abstract sense, which was cool in college but outside of the "quad" that type of conversation should be kept to a minimum. (I guess the fact that we were near NYU didn't help matters) Second. Dancing. Two of the groupies (we were more concerned with him, not her) stepped to the side into the open lobby area. He was going to teach her how to perform some sort of dancing move that should only be practiced in a ballroom with country club ladies surrounding the dance floor. He was intense. Too intense. It was weird, awkward, and slightly rude all wrapped up into one. Luckily, Matt got pictures. They're not great, but that's what undercover iPhone picture taking will do to you.

The ending scene of Bond (in a desert hotel) confused me to pieces. Things blowing up for what I thought was absolutely no reason. I leaned over and asked Matt the title to this post. It reminded me of the end to The Notebook. Evidently, a friend of mine was asked, when seeing it with a mutual friend: "Wait. Are they dead?"