I don't speak that accent

I have found my abs. Not through yoga, or pilates, or by spotting them on the kitchen floor in front of the fridge. Instead I know where they are because they hurt.

For our 3.5 year anniversary I got the Boyfriend and myself tickets to see Robin Williams, live at the Orpheum. Nothing (not even the obnoxious guffawer behind us - I know, I know, at a comedy show! But this dude was seriously ON something! Or the parents in front of us who brought their TEN YEAR OLD SONS to see one the most creatively foul-mouthed comedians out there) could put a damper on the night.

The show was spectacular. I did not stop laughing once, and Mr. Boyfriend loved it too. The audio technicians cranked up Robin's microphone so he could be heard over the crowds, so nary a word was lost to the guffaws of Woody Woodpecker behind us.

Topics covered included: GPS systems, alcoholism, children, Disney, China, Nazis, drugs (all of them), depression, dogs, sex, the French, Nascar, cloning, cell phones, football, African Olympic runners, cats, Obama, the Irish, doctors, Mr. Williams' hirsuteness, divorce, paraplegics, pole dancers, Scots, baseball, phone ladders outsourced to India, inbreeding, Mormons, Canadians, the South, women's gymnastics, the human body, coffee, Seattle, earthquakes, and Christopher Walken in adult films.

In summation: Holy God that was amazing.