Blame It On The Cheese

I was invited to a private short film screening last night, followed by an offering of some of the finest snack foods I have ever laid my mouth on. From what I understand, it was a short film shot in conjunction with a campaign that Leo Burnett is doing. The fact that the fifteen-minute film is about a boy who [DELETED FOR POTENTIALLY NEGATIVE LEGAL REPROCUSSIONS I CERTAINLY CANNOT AFFORD] (long story, and not as twisted as you think) is irrelevant. What is relevant is the consortium of fine cheeses, meats, crackers, hummus and fresh fruit I dashed out of the theatre for.

Do you remember back in grade school when the lunch bell would ring and everyone would come flying out of their classrooms and make a mad dash for the lunchroom in hopes of beating the long lines and getting first dibs on the selection of items that tended to run out fast? Yeah well this was nothing like that. If you haven't noticed, I'm an adult now. A big, big adult. With a grownup style beard. So I mozied my way in there, pretending not to care about how beautiful and delicious the food looked. I must have looked like a lion in a meat locker though. You just cant hide the primal hunger of a fat person. It's our nature. But no one got hurt. There was plenty of food to go around. And besides, everyone who was anyone that was thin enough and cool enough to walk around in skinny jeans (male or female) was hitting up the wellspring of free wine and beer. And it was all classy-like, meaning the servers poured your wine for you and everything was on ice. Tres chic mon frere. Tres chic.

So that was pretty hip for me. I felt like I was on an episode of The Hills. Very hip indeed. After the short, snack-filled evening of rubbing shoulders with fellow advertising socialites of greater importance than me, there was really only one thing left to do: go home and watch over three hours of Flight of The Conchords while laying in bed before falling asleep for an hour at 11 and then waking up to realize you've missed three calls from your pregnant and recently unemployed wife who lives in your parents basement back in Utah.
And in that strangerly awkward wrap up to my evening...I wrapped up my evening. I walked out in the hall to chat with the Mrs. who was just leaving work at 11pm Utah time and told her how much I love and miss her. You never quite realize how good of a team you make until you're forced to be away for a bit. Kristen, you're the bomb (you kids still say that right? The bomb?)