Jon-Can I get some more bagel dogs?

Jams came over so we could get ready for the JCVD premier together. She had to wait outside knocking on the door while X and I were still arguing on the phone. I was listing the many reasons I enjoy Jean-Claude Van Damme (I always say it VON DOM and he kept insisting it was VAN DAMN) and he was arguing why all of those reasons were foolishness, and that "can crack walnuts with his ass" as an example of ass perfection was, in fact, the stupidest thing he could imagine.

I uninvited him to the show.

He said he couldn't talk to me because of my unparalleled bad judgment.

All of this while Jams was growing increasingly more impatient while alternately knocking and pounding on the door.

I finally open the door to Jams and she gives me a look because I am still in a robe and the towel that I wrapped my hair in is skewed and falling off my head to reveal the disaster that is my hair. I hurry to get ready because I always take forever and I have no idea what time it is, I assume we need to leave in less than 20 minutes because whenever X and I are on the phone the space/time continuum eats itself and huge chunks of time pass without our knowing.

I unwrap the towel and sigh, my hair is irredeemable tonight (I blame it on X and his quest for a frock coat, and mesmerizing pictures of a half naked, Amina Munster) after 10 minutes of hair product to curl resuscitation, I give up. I am going to uptown and I console myself with the pseudo poor (I can't afford to pay for an apartment and therefore have 19 roommates, because I need to buy $6 cups of coffee) artist/philosophers (I may bathe but I never wash my hair) with the I-don't-believe-in-materialism-and-all-of-my-clothes-are-charmingly mismatched-look that half the population adapts there. I washed my hair this week so it looking horrible is a close second. Jeans that a cat clawed up and a cardigan will have to do.

On the way to to uptown:

Me: You have to try this. (shoves a Mexican vaguely cookie related treat in her mouth)
Jams: NOM NOM NOM (chewing)
Me: Do you like it?
Jams: I don't know.
Me: They are bizarre.
Jams: Yeah the are...bizarre.
Me: Do you want another one?
Jams: Yes.

It took us f-o-r-e-v-e-r to park because it was uptown on a Friday night, and everyone is crazy and the streets all one ways, except when they aren't. Which of course makes perfect sense to them. Luckily it was still early enough there weren't too many drunken pedestrians taking advantage of, "Dude, I have the right of way!" Which they do, all I ask is the common courtesy to look both ways so I don't get rear ended when I slam on the breaks to not hit you. "Crosswalk" seems to be a charity fundraiser for people that like to make promises they don't intend to keep, rather than the designated spot for people to walk from overpriced pretentious coffee house to all organic free trade coffee house with a display gluten free raw food and wheat grass.

We finally park by taking the back way into the parking lot that had a full sign on it which was right behind the theatre, and were charged $7 for the privilege. It was worth it to just stop driving in circles through the maze of uptown.

Inside the theater we had to wait about 40 minutes for the movie, so we took in the ambiance.

They had a coffee bar at the theatre (not a Starbucks/Caribou in the theatre, but actually part of the theatre concessions), which I looked at curiously, then remembered where I was. Evidently, it is impossible to be at a existential foreign film without brooding into an overpriced cup of coffee.

Jams (in a whisper): Do those trees have light sabers? (referring to the abstract minimalist tree-esque lighting coming from the walls and in pillars in the lobby)
Me: Those aren't light sabers, the trees are just happy to see you.

We waited impatiently until Jams decided it was time to get our tickets ripped, weather they were seating or not. We stood just inside the theatre area and watched everyone come through the line going to see the movie "Milk" which the guy at the gas station recommended when he inquired where we were going that night, and my response was "To JCVD, at the Lagoon."

Then over the walkie-talkies (even though the concession stand is less than 2 ft away from the ticket ripping station) "Jon- Can I get some more bagel dogs?" and off went the manager with the comment of "JCVD women, watch this and make sure no one comes through." We stopped our discussion and critique of the dubious genetic origin possibilities of Sean Penn's nose to blink at him blankly while he rushed to his bagel dog emergency.

Then CHAOS! Luckily, just as an attendant returned, two theatres emptied and two theatres were seating. The two that were seating were the same movie and people were getting mad that the only seats available when they show up the last minute were in the front row, and why were they not allowed to go to the second theater and take up its seating with their ticket to the first theatre? Jams and I watched in awe as the three (four?) people working, seamlessly dealt with, selling tickets, angry customers, spills, cleaning, last minute concession purchases, tickets ripped and not ripped, and a seemingly endless bagel dog emergency.

After the movie, we went to Perkins, as it should be. We had a fantastic waitress and were nostalgic about other times we have had at Perkins in our life. Sipping tea comfortable in is awfulness, and chatting while negotiating items on the appetizer sampler (she ate the onion rings, I got her second mozzarella stick) when she stopped talking in mid sentence.

Jams: (eyes following something behind me) There's my boyfriend.
Me: (looking over my shoulder) Which one?
Jams: The one in the green shirt that barely covers his beer gut, crazy hair and mutton chops.
Me: Ooh, that one... (his shirt was straining over his faux pregnancy type potbelly, the grease on his sallow skin and bedhead hair glistened in the lighting from across the restaurant, his wolverine mutton chops looked like brillo pads on his cheeks) He looks like he plays way too much World of Warcraft. (imagines him screaming a Cartman-esque "More HOT POCKETS!")
Jams: More like Dungeons and Dragons.
Me: (flash of him in a cloak with a necklace around his head) Oh yeah, he's totally old school.

Full of grease and happiness we head home after the meal with leftovers and Jams is excited to play a game. We can't find any, the only ones that I know the location of are in the storage space and that is entirely too much effort, so I show her a few clips from Hard Target and TimeCop so she can understand a fraction of how my affection of JCVD started. I was a good friend and did warn her about Yancy Butler's eyebrows.