Date Night, and why I need to pump iron.

I had a good week last week. Things seem to be happening. Life's chugging along, complete with dates and activities. I was taken out on Thursday for my birthday. My gift was dinner and a movie. After more than one snarky comment my birthday present almost got demoted to Net-flix and Burger King. Somehow I redeemed myself and seeing as there was zilch out near January 29th we went out on February24th. I was snacky and couldn't make the 20 minute trek to 4th Ave. So I was ushered into McDonalds for a warm-up burger. That tided me over till we hit the convenience store for movie treats. Tucked in to the wine-gums immediately. Then we continued wandering to a "real" burger place near the theatre. If I hadn't had my warm-up burger I would have been way fussier than I was. A second burger, wings and poutine followed and left a bloated Z rolling around and groaning in the booth. I was hauled out of there dragging my feet and winge-ing about being over stuffed. We went to the theatre and arrived in the nick of time. If the nick of time was 40 minutes before the curtain went up. We organized our snacks and stretched out over the seats in-front of us. I opened up the Georgia Straight and began reading horoscopes and "I Saw You's" out loud. Turns out someone "Saw" my Date. So popular. No-one EVER "Sees" me. *sigh.

The theatre was empty. Which did not bode well for the film we were about to see. A couple came in and the girl was about to sit in-front of us (reiterating; empty theatre) Her BF whispered for her to move down two seats, she didn't get it. He gently shoved her over. She got it, turned around to face us, apologized and said "He's way better at life than I am." It was awesome. Very cute couple, so considerate AND funny. Joke was on us though, as in place of the thoughtful adorable couple we got two crotchety menopausal fluffy haired women.

That's when I was summoned to haul out the candy bars. I started feebly tearing at the wrappers. My Date looked at me with bewildered affection and said:

"Yeah, you better start going to the gym, if you can't open a bag of candy bars."

I scowled and continued unsuccessfully pawing at the packaging. My date put out his hand and said: "Here, I'll use my brains . . ."

Handing him the candy, he easily tore open the wrapper.


Forty seconds pass. "Hey Muscles, you want some?"

The gift of feebleness just keeps on giving. Tune in next week to find out whether I survived my first bout with physical activity.