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This weekend brought soccer, symphony, and Smarmie, who made her triumphant return from Hawai'i in high fashion... well, looking for high fashion.

Recap:

Friday evening I met up with Liz and Smarmie for a pizza (what else would you expect?) dinner at John's Pizzeria in midtown. When the waiter asked what we'd like to drink, Smarmie ordered two pizzas. When the waiter finally understood that we didn't not want our pizzas liquified, but rather, round, and sliced in triangular shaped pieces, our he went on his merry. The pizza itself was pretty decent. Their crust could've used a extra charring. It lacked the body to withstand the weight of a plain cheese pizza, let alone a pizza with tomato and bell peppers.

Post-meal, we parted ways. Smarmie and Liz, I believe, went on a fruitless journey to CBGB's, while I had a very fruitful trek up to the Lincoln Center for a concert by the New York Symphony courtesy of my Aunt Ginger. While I'm no connoisseur of classical music, I especially enjoyed the drama of the first piece and the last movement of the second piece. There was a quiet-loud structure that reminded me a little of the Pixies and Weezer's first two albums.

Saturday we three and Emiko met up at H&M. After a relatively quick shopping trip (45 minutes?) We had an excellent meal at Japanese restaurant on 55th. Emiko ordered enough food to feed all the starving children in Africa. I bet her the price of her meal that she couldn't finish it. She got a free meal. I, however, at least enjoyed mine. To top it off we stopped off at the Teuscher store on 50th. Tastey, tastey chocolate was consumed. Emiko still did not boot. Smarmie was then carried off to Larchmont and Emiko, Liz, and I went back to Brooklyn to watch the Incredibles but watched Bend it Like Beckham instead.

Sunday was all about kicking round objects. The afternoon brought three hours of soccer. The last game I played in was populated mostly by West Indians. Play was only marred by a couple of unforgiving players barging into an area of sunbathers. A shouting match ensued, but no blood was drawn. In the evening I headed over to Williamsburg to play kickball with my co-worker and about a billion driz-unk hipsters. Play was only marred by a couple of pseudo-hippies banging on bongos in the middle of the field.

All in all, this entry is a lot less interesting than I thought it would be. For your sake, next time I'll try and include more lies and innuendo.