Weekend Update, Now With Less Hair!

Not actual mysterious chicken sandwich.

Our Father's Day weekend started off with a mysterious chicken sandwich. When I got home on Friday afternoon Bryan was sitting at his computer polishing off the last bite. Where was that chicken sandwich from? he asked. It was delicious! And he gave me a shit-eating grin, most likely thinking he was in trouble for eating my chicken sandwich. I thought that sandwich was yours, I said. Because I hadn't put a leftover chicken sandwich in the fridge, would never even order a chicken sandwich in the first place. I'm more of a BLT or veggie kind of girl. You're lying, Bryan said, come on, that sandwich was yours, right? And it went around and around like that until we both trusted that it wasn't the other person's sandwich. At which point I was forced to make embarrassing phone calls to family and friends that went something like this: hi, I know it's Friday night and you're on vacation/asleep/out to dinner/at a movie, but did you by any chance leave a mysterious chicken sandwich in our fridge last time you were here? It was grilled? And chicken? A grilled chicken sandwich, apparently quite good? Because Bryan just ate said sandwich and we've exhausted all possibilities of where it came from. Either you left it here or someone broke into our house and put it in the fridge while ransacking our panty drawers, got spooked and then ran out without his chicken sandwich. Please give a call back to let us know, thanks. Four hours later my mom finally called back to claim the sandwich. Said she had left it in our fridge over two weeks ago when raiding our panty drawers. Okay, she never really went through our underwear (that I know of) but she did put it in our fridge because it had been sitting in her purse for a few hours and she didn't trust it, the chicken and the mayonnaise, TWO WEEKS AGO. So needless to say the weekend was off with Suspicious Meat Watch 2008, me staring at Bryan for any pallor in complexion, any sudden excess drooling or projectile vomiting that seemed out of the ordinary.

While we were waiting for the other chicken to drop, I was folding laundry in our bedroom (Hot parenting weekend! Laundry and waiting to see if anyone pukes!) when all of a sudden I heard Bryan yell, Hey, I never looked like Lorenzo Lamas! And I ran into the office where he was on the computer reading about his Father's Day present two days early, this from a guy who never reads my blog. And let's just say he was not pleased. I think it had less to do with the ponytail and more to do with the leather vest, so I feel compelled to amend my assertion that Bryan looks like Lorenzo Lamas circa 1995 to current day 'Renzo:

Of course I am kidding--Bryan does not look anything like Lorenzo Lamas, with long hair or short. I don't want to be a divorcée, after all. This is Bryan, you decide who he looks like:

Because if Bryan did look like Lorenzo Lamas that would make me Shauna Sand, and I just don't do lucite platform heels on principle. Or brown lip liner. Cheetah print. And the circumference of my waist is not smaller than that of my own head.

So what about the ponytail? I hear what you're thinking. Why am I prattling on and on about suspicious chicken and soap stars? Because even though the ponytail was not well received, we had the most perfectly normal Father's Day outside of a Hallmark card. Bryan bought himself a new bicycle. Zoey made him a colorform card complete with a rocket that says "Dad, you're out of this world." On Sunday we took the ferry to Angel Island and hiked around in the sunshine, stopping only to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. PB&J's, people! On an island named after ANGELS! Life does not get any more pleasant than this. We took photos with Bryan's phone and he promised me he would email them to me this morning once he got to work but it is now 2:30 and no photos to post. Only Lorenzo Lamas. Apparently I don't write pleasant very well and I am left with just this.

To his credit Bryan has a tough work day ahead. He is an architect working on some new CSI like building. Today he has to go down to the San Francisco morgue at Hunter's Point/Bayview, the toughest neighborhood in the entire city. He has to review what needs to be implemented in such a building, slabs with drainage for bodily fluids, refrigeration systems to keep the bodies cold, an efficient system of storing the bone saws and forceps. Just like in Dexter! I said, because I'm sick and like that kind of shit. He looked fine all weekend, but finally, this Monday morning I think I finally saw Bryan getting a little green around the gills. Suspicious Meat Watch 2008 may not be over yet.

But hey. At least I never said he looked like Kevin Sorbo.