i saw scarlett johansson in the flesh this weekend, and that's really the least interesting part of it.

though i'm loath to count my chickens before i've checked in with my sister, i think it's fairly safe to say that that went awfully well.

this was a big weekend for a lot of reasons: i saw my mom for the first time in two years; i met her boyfriend for the first time ever; she met MY boyfriend for the first time ever; i played my first ever show with a band; i played my first ever show for my mother. i had a tattoo to hide.

but, despite a few pre-arrival flurries of nervousness, it was all good. the boyfriend and i got along well, bonding over the vagaries of 35mm photography (which i'm learning and he is very skilled in); we came close to having an argument at dinner, over (shock!) politics, but i think we slid nicely away from the precipice there and managed to pick up our politeness where we'd left off. my mother definitely likes dom--but then, really. what sensible woman wouldn't?

the show went swimmingly--though the band is still in its infant stages, i think we're on to something...though i longingly look forward to the day when we have some serious Rawk action going on, with a full screaming drum kit and a bassist. also, a name. that would be good. but it went well, and we'll be posting some samples on the site soon (hopefully). i am pretty sure that mom liked the show--her boyfriend took about eight hundred thousand pictures, so at least she has evidence. hopefully, the pictures don't have too much of the venue's proscenium, which is adorned with several life-size images of women in classic bondage gear. progressive as california is, i don't think that pictures like that are what you want to wave in the wine-tasting group's face when proclaiming what your youngest daughter is up to.

but i could be wrong.

i'm still uncertain as to whether or not she actually saw my tattoo; my suspicion is that she noticed it, but opted not to say anything--in her estimation, there is nothing i can do to my body that's as bad as smoking. she spent nearly ten years trying to get me to quit that, and now that i have...i mean, really. where's the satisfaction in picking a fight over something like a discreetly placed tattoo when the big fight has already been won?

in closing, it was a good weekend. it was great to see my mom, it was great to play the show, it was great to see the marvelous biscuit in full fabulous form in his play, twelfth night on sunday.

good times, man. good times. now if you can just do something about the fact that today is REFUSING TO END...