B. Dan and Jason and I saw Kick-Ass, which was, well, kick-ass. Really good, better than I was expecting. I thought it would just be a bunch of crazy violence and a foul-mouthed child, but everything had its place, and it turned out be a really good superhero movie. Unexpectedly emotional, and pretty intense.
The sound kept cutting out throughout the movie, so we complained to the manager and got free passes, which we plan on using to see The Losers on Friday.
III. I stopped by Dr. Comics and chatted with Cute Comic Book Store Girl #2—who had waved to me upon seeing me—about seeing her at Cato's last week. Then as she and CCBSG1 ate crackers and cheese, she asked me where I got my shirt because it was awesome and she needed to get one and we would have the same shirt. She, like me, loved dinosaurs. Also, she gave me a Nut-Thin.
She improves my week.
Quatro. For lunch, I had a turkey sandwich on a spinach asiago bagel at Posh Bagel. I read Transmetropolitan not on top of an arcade game.
Five. New Doctor Who! I do enjoy Eleven and Amy Pond. And certain things that offer you tea.
Tricia Helfer. miniglik introduced me to Michael Jordan's Twitter, which is hilarious and full of gems like "I'd love to find a new Root Beer that really knocks my socks off. I'm worried that I've tried them all." He's WORRIED, you guys. WHAT IF HE HAS TRIED THEM ALL. WOE.
Se7en. On BART, I sat next to a guy in a bunny hat holding a stuffed carrot and reading Watership Down. He also had a bunny tattoo. And a Rugrats watch. And a stuffed giraffe and a stuffed horse. I have no idea where this man came from and whether he was on anything, but he was an odd duck (he did not have a stuffed duck, to my knowledge). His name was Levy. When I told him I was on my way to have dinner with a friend, he said that dinner was good and friends were good. I agreed.
He randomly gave me a Shiva finger puppet—oh my God it's also a magnet—to keep for my own. He hoped Shiva would get me some free naan, since we agreed that you shouldn't have to pay for naan.
I forget what eight was for. I met a friend from Rice, Missy, for dinner at Little Delhi. We had not seen each other in six years, but she had been in the Bay Area the whole time I had been here without our knowing it until recently. We played catch-up, talked Shakespeare, and both ordered the badami chicken. Although I had Shiva on the table, I did not invoke him when ordering naan, so we had to pay for it.
"Thank you for wanting to see me," I said after dinner.
"Thank you for wanting to see me," she said. I believe that wanting to see me is a highly underrated activity and should be done more often.
District. Since the restaurant was right by the EXIT Theatre, I had suggested we see a play afterward, and she was up for it, so we saw The Wind and Rain, a play based on the old Irish ballad about one sister murdering another in a jealous rage and a fiddler making a fiddle out of her bones. It was funny! It was an interesting take on the story, especially with the fiddler wordlessly hanging around onstage for most of the play waiting to play her role (while also playing music throughout the show). Missy liked the swim-dancing.
I walked Missy back to her car so no one would beat her up and steal her lunch money. She said that was nice of me.