backhome
back to jorunal index
Friday 10/20/00
Yeah, so this is being written early on Monday morning but don't let that bug you because I still have pretty vivid memories of Friday.
So I stayed up all of Thursday night and then I fell asleep and missed Metaphysics, which this is the first time I've missed Metaphysics because I'm a lazy bastard. I missed it Wednesday because of the boogery lettuce on the Sonic cheeseburger (but there's a metaphysical problem here, because do I call it a cheeseburger if I ordered a cheeseburger but it lacks the cheeseburger-making quality of cheese?) which made me puke.
After that Megan called and I got out of bed and I was a-dressin' for the opera, which was La Boeheme, which was staged at 7:30 at the Alabama Theater. So she came and picked me up and we drove to her house.
I really like the family of Megan. The house had the pleasant feel of Friday afternoon before the football game (and I assure you, gentle reader, that for me to say anything positive about anything associated even tenuously with high school is high praise indeed). And the patriarch clearly took great pleasure in having three vibrant, young daughters and an energetic young son. And that was stomach-tighteningly pleasant.
We ate some pizza.
So, the opera. It was La Boheme and it began at 7:30, and we arrived well in advance and we were among the youngest in the audience. At some point during the third act the guy behind us made a bunch of horrible gooey coughing noises, and between the third and fourth acts I ran into my German professor, Herr Doktor Fox. "Es ist nicht Wagner, aber es ist ziemlich gut, nein?" he asked, from over my left shoulder. And I froze, because I was supposed to be seeing an Italian opera and here was a disembodied voice (I had not yet turned to identify the speaker) clearly asserting in my direction in German that while it wasn't Wagner, it was pretty good, huh? I turned and tried to speak in German and saw that it was my German professor. I think we were equally stunned that the other was in attendance. We spoke briefly in German but then reverted back to English, because as he put it, refering something I had said in class last week, German "ist nicht deine Muttersprache." He asked me what gave that I should never attend class last year, but should have a near flawless attendance record this year. I told him that my reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault, would show more goodly and attract more eyes, than that which hath no foil to set it off. But I'm not sure that was the best thing to say. When I got back to my seat, Megan told me that she had seen her German professor, Frau Doktor Martin, in the bathroom. It was then revealed to me that the two of them, Herr Doktor Fox and Frau Doktor Fischer (thanks for the correction, assface), are linked through the holy bonds of matrimony. Mindblowin'.
So the opera was really good and we returned to Tuscaloosa fat and happy with gravy from the belly of Art, which is sort of what I have instead of God.
Drinkedeedo? Drinkedeedid.
back
next
