Yes, it's Official Blog Post No. 200, which The Ford might be more willing to make a big stink over, had he celebrated Official Post No. 100 slightly more.

Or, y'know, at all...

Still, here we are, a couple of silver spoons... you waiting for The Ford's recap of an exciting Saturday night, The Ford waiting for whatever it is he waits for. (He's not saying it's porn, but, well, when speaking of delays and the Internet, porn is rarely a poor guess...)

Anyway, it's a big moment, so, in honor of that (and in honor of the best movie The Ford owns on DVD but has yet to unwrap -- no, not My Blue Heaven), we're gonna recap this bad boy Memento-style...



The Ford is standing with a black nylon bra in his hands, wondering what to do with it, wondering why he has it, wondering why, on a Saturday night, it's not satin...

The Ford ignores drunken text message from The Official Freaklet, attending a wedding somewhere in middle America.

The Ford, still at The Official Bar, watches 65 minutes of a movie that features Lance Bass as a guy seeking the girl he met on the subway, who got much, much, much hotter on "Entourage." Debate with waitress and bartender ensues over whether it's hypocritical to be unnerved by gay Lance Bass playing straight reporter, but not unnerved by legions of straight actors playing gay. Lance Bass-as-astronaut/ass-tronaut joke is made by undetermined patron. Debate halted by realization that Joey Fatone is stealing scenes right and left as Lance Bass' best friend, leading to fond recollections of "My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding" by all involved. The Ford may use similar tactic to bring about resolution to Mideast conflict.

The Ford tries not to let The Official NFC Champions' loss in their first preseason game get him thinking about his fears of a 7-9 season.

The Ford meets up with a new bartender at The Official Bar, an unexcepted surprise, though one that makes The Ford feel stupid, since he should have expected it, what with all the other bartenders pretty much on vacation.

The Ford ends up at The Official Sad Strip Club, only to find it, well, looking sad. Truly, it's a far cry from the last visit, on a Thursday, during which he had four guys in his group going to rescue one lone member who'd defected to the world of the lap dance. Of course there was a cover charge. Saturday, when it's just him and The Official Trusty Coworker, no cover, few strippers. Beers still expensive, allowing The Ford to ponder the improbability of a strip club that's busier on a Thursday than a Saturday.

The Ford makes his rounds of the 313's perferred watering holes -- knowing he can say "the 313's" unironically, now that he's gone ahead and gotten a local phone number for his cell -- accompanied by The Official Trusty Coworker, following a slow-but-generally satisfying chimichanga in Greektown. (Yes, The Ford recognizes the absurdity of eating Tex-Mex food in Greektown, with Mexicantown just a couple of miles away, but, well, when The Ford is searching for dinner options concurrent with catching up with The Official Parents, he gets a bit flustered. The Ford supposes that's what two pints of Dos Equis on tap are for.)

The Ford realizes that the new Official Cell Phone seems to think he lives in Royal Oak or Ferndale. Despite many attempts to convince it otherwise, The Official Cell Phone insists that there are only two theaters within The Ford's easy viewing convienence. Thus, The Ford must settle for a call to The Official Parents, to update them on the new number.

The Ford showers. Were this on Cinemax, and were The Ford being played by Shannon Whirry -- or even Shannon Tweed -- this would be the point that thousands of young American males break through puberty and/or run through a box of tissues. Instead, things being what they are, it's just The Ford realizing that he looks damn good after a quick shave/shower, thanks to the rediscovery of a favored sweater in the closet. And dozens of blog readers being grossed out. Can't forget that.

The Ford gets off work early, thanks to a phenomonal work ethic (and a sports schedule that had most every event of interest to Michigan over by 5 p.m.).

The Ford goes into work just 7 hours after leaving the second-longest shift of his stint at The Official Newspaper. Not a good sign, considering the longest shift came only 5 days earlier. The Ford is focused on the Saturday night, he tells himself, sitting down at his disturbingly familiar desk.

The Ford goes to bed after completely forgetting to post a new blog entry. Waking up, he remembers and thinks, "Eh, what could happen in a single Saturday?"