The Outcome of Tonight's Plans

Ice skating was aight. We went to Polar Ice/Tucson Ice/Gateway Ice...I guess they can't decide on a name. The website says Polar Ice. The building says Tucson Ice. The sign on the road says Gateway Ice. Whatever. I asked the skate-giver-outer-guy what the difference between figure skates and hockey skates was, and he said that figure skates have a toe pick (I knew that already; I've watched The Cutting Edge) and hockey skates have more ankle support. WELL! Who wouldn't want more ankle support?? I went for the hockey skates, obviously. It was going really well for the first 2/3 of the time. It was very Ron-a-Roll-in-7th-grade-esque. Except on ice. I looked cute in my penguin shirt and wearing my blue scarf. Az didn't come though, so we had no one to take pictures of us skating. Hey, I said I'd try. I wasn't cold, thanks to my scarf, but my forearms got frozen. Whenever I'd stretch them all the way out, they would tingle all the way down through my thumbs. I think I have carpal tunnel syndrome, hard core. I'm not going to be whiny about it like everyone else though. Anyways, when it was time to switch directions skating, I was all too happy to give my right leg a rest. Until I found out that going the other way made me fall. Twice. Then I was done skating. Falling isn't fun. It's painful and cold and wet. Erin had been bitching about how the skates hurt her feet since we got there practically, so I didn't feel too bad about wanting to leave. It was funny how she missed me falling both times. HAHAHA...now only strangers can laugh at me. There was this little girl (I mean in size, not age...she wasn't that young, younger than I though) who was a really good skater. She was out in the middle of the ice the whole time spinning and jumping and skating backwards. It was great. I just kept watching her.

When we left, we decided to get something to eat. Erin suggested Little Anthony's Diner. Apparently, it's a big Tucson thing, and neither of us had ever been there. I'm really never that keen on diners (well, Emily and I have to differ in some areas, right?), but I felt that I could go for a milkshake or rootbeer float and some fries. When we walked in, I immediately noticed the hostess and her awesome 50's style skirt (sans poodle though). Then I saw pizzas on tables on those pizza stand thingys. Those stands somehow make them more appealing to me. We were seated and given water. Then we were left to peruse the menu. For about 20 minutes. I don't know why anyone would rave about this place. Granted, I never actually got a chance to try the food because we left after about the 80th waiter/waitress walked by us without even looking, but still. Worst of all though, the restaurant smelled bad. Like mildew or male cat spray. I guess if you like to go to restaurants to be ignored and you like the smell of cat piss, I highly recommend Little Anthony's Diner. But only on those conditions. We walked across the parking lot to Maxim, a soft-core strip club. HAHAHA...no, it's a Chinese buffet/Mongolian BBQ. It was ok, but we had to eat fast since we wasted so much time in the aforementioned diner that the restaurant was closing. I hate it when places say they're open until 10, but then they start to clean up at, like, 9:30. If you want to go home at 9:30, that's when you should close. It was a little nerve racking trying to eat and wondering if they were taking away all the food or not. I thing those of you who've gone to Sweet Tomatoes near closing time know what I'm talking about.

Anyways, here are some pictures of us, not ice skating...

Me at Little Anthony's Cat Pee Diner, then Erin there, then me at our REAL restaurant: