Events herein described are the actions of myself, and two male cronies of mine. Two of us are single, and one of us is very married.
I had a relatively good day today. Saw The Legend of Druken Master. Jackie Chan movies are like sex and pizza. Even a bad one is still pretty good. And this movie was frickin' great. No American can resist a movie where the English are the bad guys. (Or at least, that's my logic behind why The Patriot did so well.)

After Druken Master we hit a Red Robin's for some food. I had a no-pass peppercorn burger. Mmm...gas. After most of the food was done, and we were sitting there in that post eating bliss, enjoying that moment where beef is bursting from every pore, we had the usual problem of needing refills on our drinks. Our waiter came up and gathered the cups, and moved the foot or so to the drink station. As he was filling the glasses, one of my friends softly said something like "Serve me, dangit!".

Now, I'm many things, and funny and fat are two of them. What happens to give me the "funny" title is the thing what happens to most people who are considered funny. They take external stimuli, and quickly create output that is worded in a humorous fashion, and they don't stop the result from being said. This last part is key. If I had self control, I'd probably be considered as boring as I actually should be.

So, having been prompted with "Serve me, dangit!", I sallied forth with the line "I'm a fat man! Serve me!", with the appropriate hand slam on the table for emphasis. Unfortunately, I said this much louder than I intended. Our waiter turned around and gave me a dirty look. I spent the rest of our visit apologizing to him for having said that.

Post Red-Robin's, we went to the Capitol Theater in beautiful downtown Olympia to see Incubus. If you ever get the chance to see that beautiful movie (Think William Shatner, demoness, and Esperanto), run the other way.