Saturday is a Special Day

Saturdays, being out of school and with 0% work expectations, are the best gift ever given to mankind. With very little responsibility to anyone besides myself, Saturdays are the day I can devote to whatever the heck I want. Some Saturdays I sleep off and on most of the day. Some Saturdays are cleaning, laundry and yard work days. Some Saturdays are readers, some are devoted to errands and obligations.

Yesterday, being Saturday, was the perfect example of why Saturday is the ultimate best day of the week.

I woke up around 11 and withdrew myself reluctantly from bed. I probably could have rolled over and slept for another hour or so, but I restrained. Krista and Nici were busy bees cleaning up the house so I caught the fever and started sorting my laundry. Three loads and a quasi-cleaner room later I was still in my pajamas with three-day old hair. But I accomplished at least something. (Well.... something. My jeans load was totally completed, the whites are clean but still in the basket, and the coloreds are still wet in the washer. I should follow up on those.)

Melissa, Nici, and I decided to go to lunch. I cut the Greek genre short and so we headed up Immigration Canyon to a little cafe called Ruby's. We sat on the patio and enjoyed the glorious day. Nici met a man, and we enjoyed overhearing the strange conversations going on around us.

We hit Fashion Place Mall next. Just meandering back and forth in a bunch of stores. Here are the statistics:

• 3 hours.
• 5 stores.
• 2 bathroom breaks.
• 7 purchases by 3 shoppers.
• 1 lost bag.
• 2 girls freaking out over a random sighting of the Davis County "Dream Boy."
• 15+ super intense salespeople hovering non-stop.

We've worked up an appetite again--Stoneground on 4th South is the dinner destination. I think we were the only straight people having dinner that night--which spurned a conversation about what "gay" looks like. Did diners at the restaurant believe Mel, Nici, and I were gay as well? We did look rather scroungy--bad hair, long shorts, ease and comfort sitting together. Did we fit in the scene? Would we have "fit in" better or worse had we been dressed nicer and looked better? This conversation was an absolute piggyback on the "How do you know if you're white trash?" conversation we had at lunch.

We're so deep. I know.

Lunch? Check.

Shopping? Check.

Dinner? Check.

What to do next? It's 9:30 and the night is still young right? Well, somehow we decided to go dancing. Like clubbing dancing. So there we went. Downtown Salt Lake City. Bumping at 11 at night. Our experience was pretty positive, but the three hardcore rap songs in a row that brought the gangster thugs out in force was a little much. It's so funny to me that people go clubbing for real--that they take so seriously what they wear. What a silly environment. Oh a good time.

The evening was completed with a trashy RedBox flick called, "Something New." A touching romantic comedy about one over-achiever black woman who's set up with an accomplished white landscaper and the ensuing struggles and problems associated with interracial dating and the fact that sooner or later we must reduce the list of "must haves" for a potential relationship. It was a winner, I'll tell you what.

I haven't had nearly the time to blog in detail about each of the "things" I did yesterday. Each set really, honestly, could have been a blog of its own... and individually the scenes would be much funnier than the broad overview I've provided, but what're you gonna do. I need to be a better blogger. So you get what you get.

It was a general day of acceptance. 19 year old boys who hit on Nici, the white trash, the homosexuals, the other races, the charmers from our past... The only differing social segments missed were the midgets... but then on our way home.... we drove by Hobbitville.