All in the Family, Part 1

Ever notice how hard it is to type with music playing? I find it difficult to concentrate when you have Frank Black screaming "Taaaaame!" into your ear over and over again.

The weekend went by really quickly thanks to family busy-ness. Immediately after work on Friday, Mom, Dad, and Lisa surprised me by appearing out of nowhere on my deck right outside the kitchen window. I was expecting them, yeah, but not like right in front of me with no warning. Mom had brought over a shitload of food to grill and chop and serve, and after showing Lisa the place (she liked it, noting that it's basically a museum of Nania artifacts from residences past), we sat down for dinner. And, much to my surprise, it was the same old dinner-type conversation we always used to have. I don't know why, but I thought with Lisa having been gone so long the dialogue would be a little awkward or different, ya know, less chit chat. I guess it just shows how comfortable we are with each other that we can just pick up where we left off.

Saturday morning I met everybody at the house for the trip to Boston. My dad needed to get his hair cut, so he dropped us off at Downtown Crossing so that we could go to H&M for a bit. "A bit" turned into 2 hours thanks to my sister's boundless desire for a new wardrobe for Florida. I myself was looking for shorts long enough to hide my scrawny legs, but not so long that I might as well be wearing pants. I settled on a couple pair, tried them on, liked them, and that was it. Took me about twenty minutes. The rest of the time was me waiting -- patiently -- for my sister to decide which 50 items she wanted, and also talking to my mom. If you've never been to an H&M in a hip place like Boston, consider yourself lucky. Because it will almost surely lower your self-worth. You think what you're wearing is trendy and fits you well? YOU'RE WRONG. So suggests the H&M clientele. According to them, I should be wearing orange t-shirts, white pants with giant blue buckles, and have my hair spiked in twenty different directions. I should also be incredibly fit and muscular. Oh, how misguided I am.

After taking in the sites at H&M, we took a cab driven by a strange foreigner over to the Prudential building to meet my dad for "linner" (lunch-dinner) at Legal Seafood, which is always a reliable meal. I got the Alaskan Salmon which was tasty. What was not so appealing was my dad telling all of us how at the salon there was a "young, nubile girl with a great body bending down right in front of me and I couldn't stop staring." Why I was the only one who thought this was inappropriate, I'll never understand.

After dinner we headed back home, stopping at Richardson's for some ice cream and cow/chicken watching. Chickens are actually really cool creatures up close. Cows, less so. My dad and I had a good time making fun of the "Chinese Slippers" my sister was wearing, which were basically pink socks with jewels on them. Haha. Girls are funny.

Saturday night the men watched "Hostage" while the women tried on clothes. "Hostage" was ok, competently executed but with a little too much craziness at the end. Bruce Willis seems at first to be playing his typical seasoned cop character, but it turns out he's actually very fearful of getting shot at, and gets this sad look on his face whenever he's in danger that is just so un-Bruce-Willis like that it was kind of jarring. I like my Willis tough as nails, not weak-kneed like in "Death Becomes Her." Ben Foster (Russell on "Six Feet Under") plays a dark, creepy scary guy who likes watching people die. I wasn't expecting that from the kid who prematurely ejaculated in "Liberty Heights." 2.5/5.