What? You'd like me to document my weekend for future generations to see how I spend my free time? Seems like an odd request, but I'll oblige. Let's enjoy a superficial summary of my weekend. Pithy sentences will end each paragraph.

Saturday was super rainy. If I could come up with a clever way of combining the syllables "Sat-ur" and the word "rain", I'd do it. Rainurday? Maybe Satrainday? Cleverness eludes me.

We started Saturrain with my daughter's soccer game, played in the rain. I am happy to report, however, that this was her finest soccer performance to date. I'd have to change her soccer rating from Abysmal to Merely Horrible. It's nice to see that I've passed my soccer skills down to my daughter.

Afterwards I had to shop for a birthday gift for another five year-old girl. Nothing makes me feel like a manly-man more than standing in line at the fabric store, buying a feather boa. Hear me roar.

I also went for my first rainy run of the season. Running in the rain gets pretty old by around spring-time, but the first rain of the season isn't so bad. Generally, anything that makes a run different is a good thing.

On Saturday night, I traveled down to the South Bay to play poker with some old friends from my Hewlett Packard days. Apparently they've been watching too much World Series of Poker on TV, because they all came wearing their "intimidating" accessories. They either had mirrored sunglasses, or caps, or headphones. I was the lone unadorned player. "I'm wearing my poker cock ring!" I announced intimidatingly. That joke went over like a lead brick.

Everyone loves a good cock ring joke. Right? I mean, in the annals of comedy, at least among those of us who don't actually own cock rings, cock ring jokes are in the upper echelon. Say you're with me here.

Regardless, I got no laughs. I don't know if it was the gravity of the poker game, or the fact that I was in the suburbs, or if cock rings just ain't funny. "That joke KILLS in San Francisco," I whispered to no one in particular.

I did win at poker, however. That'll teach them.

Sunday was less harried. Had lunch with the parental units and then sort of kind of carved a pumpkin. As it turns out, pumpkins are fairly gooey and yucky inside and they smell bad. The wife ended up doing 95% of the work. Hear me roar, indeed.

That night we went out on our Date Night and saw Shaun Of The Dead. I declare it to be the first intentionally funny zombie movie.

It's Monday now.