I always get 2 and 3 mixed up, anyhow.

March 2, 2004

Every once in awhile, someone in my family does something so stupid, so idiotic, so incredibly dumb, that the stories of their feats go down in the annals of Self history. These tales are told again and again, passed between family members on a regular basis until they become second nature and things that represent the person of whom the tale is told. My Dad has some, my Mom has some, I have some, and now tonight my sister has a new one.

Tonight was supposed to be the night of the big Crystal Method concert. I haven’t seen these guys in four years, and Heather’s never seen them, so she took off work early and the two of us headed downtown for some dinner. We went a bit early because we wanted to go to Ringler’s Pub for the end of Happy Hour and only pay $2 for entrees and have cheaper beer. Since I wasn’t driving, I had a few beers and a nice dinner, and we sat there and talked while we waited for the 8 PM concert. Since Happy Hour ended at 6, we had a ways to wait. Anyhow, after talking for a long time and a few beers for me, we decided to head upstairs around 7:20 or so. I popped into the bathroom before we went up, and I was surprised to find my sister standing outside the door with what I’d prefer now to call a sheepish look.

My sister, purchaser and holder of the tickets, gave me my ticket and instructed me to look at the date. Wednesday, March 3rd. Wait, WEDNESDAY? Today’s TUESDAY. My sister had gotten the frickin’ date wrong.

She’s not going to live this down for many years to come. Every time we purchase tickets for something, I’ll have to make sure I ask her if she got them for the right date. At least we showed up a day early and not a day late, though. Nonetheless, she gets a golden rasberry for this. Phbbbbt!

The worst part is what I gave up for tonight, though. Every time my Dad and I go to the store and the subject of beef is brought up (i.e., ‘What do you want for dinner? Steak?” or when he’s purchasing meat for beef cubelets), I always joke about him buy the $40/pound Kobe beef for me. He never wants to buy it, though. Anyhow, he told me last weekend that if Martin ever came over for dinner, he was going to get Kobe beef. Well guess who went to dinner at my Dad’s tonight? Martin. I was naturally invited, but alas, I had a concert to go to. Oh wait, no I didn’t. I THOUGHT I had a concert to go to, but I had trusted the ticket-holder and hadn’t double-checked the date. I figured I didn’t need to…she’s a big girl. College graduate…holds a full-time steady job…lives on her own…gets Tuesday and Wednesday mixed up…no problem. I should have known.

And yes, I’m being overly harsh because A) she’s my sister, B) she’s my sister, and C) I know she’s reading this, and D) she’s my sister. But nonetheless, that means that (hopefully) tomorrow night is the big concert.

I’ll make sure to ask her tomorrow, though. Double check, that kind of thing. Make sure she’s on the ball. I’m keeping my ticket, just in case.

Posted in Beer, General