Wild weekend, I’ll tell you. Nipples, NBA fistfights, girls making out, fried turkeys, it had everything but the Kitchen Sink, which I almost ordered at the Charcoal Pit on Friday to gross out my friends.
Friday we went to see the Brandywine High School play, “You Can’t Take It With You,” which was pretty damned funny. We did a little pre-eating at Lonestar (mmm…16 oz prime rib), and a little post-eating at the Pit.
[An aside: We had a discussion at the Pit on Friday (Me, HW, Mary, Milo) about the Kitchen Sink, which has 20 scoops of ice cream in it and, according to the Pit menu, serves 2 to 4 people. Everyone else was astounded to think that 2 to 4 people could finish off 20 scoops of ice cream, but then I got to thinking about it; when I have ice cream, I usually have between 5 and 6 scoops, coated liberally with chocolate syrup. It stands to reason that 4 Hearns could eat a sundae containing 20-25 scoops of ice cream. Of course, one would have to find 3 other Hearns, and after they made me, they broke the mold. (Thank God.)]
Unfortunately, the real fun to be had Friday night was not with Team Hearn. The Ychromes had an away gig at George Washington University, followed by a riotous afterparty with a bunch of slutty girls. Good times for all, I’m told. Even the fat kid with horrible teeth got to make out with 2 or three women. These things did not happen while I was in the group.
[Also occurring on Friday night: Ron Artest bitch-slapping Detroit fans! It’s a pity he got suspended, considering if you throw a beer at me, I’m going to at least punch you in the stomach a couple times. Milo says that’s fine for the average citizen, but professional athletes can’t go into the stands no matter what. So if a fan throws a brick at me, I still can’t do anything? Is there a line somewhere that I can’t cross? Beer throwing is okay, but am I allowed to go after a guy if he’s hurling shuriken at my teammates? Artest and I would just like this to be cleared up before next season.
Saturday we got a bunch of stuff done around the house, including the creation of a blueberry pie (with which my wife absconded on Sunday, forcing me to make two replacement pies). At 5, we headed up into Philly, where we ate dinner at “Fat Tuesdays,” henceforth known as “A Particularly Crappy Bar in Philly That Charges Too Much For Everything and Had a Sticky Floor.” Then we went to check out Rebecca Buswell’s nipples cabaret performance at the Red Room in the Society Hill Theater. It was highly rad, and featured our friends Nora and Cindy in a number of songs, and got HW to thinking: “Matt, you should do something like this!” I’m just a meal ticket to that woman, I swear. Or at least a ticket to maybe meeting Janet Jackson someday.
Sunday: Church, bake pies, more church, English “Cream Tea.” The last was amusing; Jill and Wally and I polished off about 18 scones, 40 tea sandwiches, and a gallon or so of clotted cream.
I scooted out of there around 6pm to roll to Colin’s for Thanksgiving dinner, at which I ate too much pie, and we all made fun of the people who weren’t there (Ian, Unga, Ian some more, Justin and his HOTT NEW GIRL, etc.). We also threw the football around, and surprisingly, my left arm still functions! I must be getting more athletic as I age. By the time I’m 50 I’ll be ready to start for the Jets!
Let’s hear it for the short workweek. I’ll be baking a lot of pies. I love pie so much.
[Aaron took a picture of Justin at some bar with a woman who wore a bright pink shirt and a bright pink mesh trucker hat, and also appeared to have no upper lip. Seriously. From what I could see in the picture, her face, from north to south, went: nose, gum, teeth. I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years of tracking ugly people at Walmarts.]
Dude– if consuming 5-6 scoops of ice cream is your sole criterion for being a Hearn for this endeavor, sign me up. 5-6 scoops is a mere appetizer of ice cream in my book.
Let me know if you wanna find two others and we’ll tackle that bizzle. I need me some ice creamz, yo.
[Incidentally, after the english tea last night, we went to Eclipse where I ate a 10-ounce new york strip in its entirety, mashed potatoes and baby carrots, a mojito, some bread/red pepper appetizer and some espresso creme brulee. Don’t mess with my stomach; it knows no bounds.]
–Llij
ps: I love me some pie, too. I’ve crossed that emotional barrier from like to love.
Jill
+
Pie
<3 true love always <3
Matt,
I don’t know if you will ever read this but I would appreciate it if you did not talk about Rebecca Buswell’s nipples. Mostly because she is my cousin and I think of her more as a sister. You and I once went to school together a long long time ago. My name is Ben Buswell went to Concord . I would appreciate it if you would apologize on your blog. I think it would be the right thing to do.
Do you have a sister? How would you like it if I started talking about how I went to see her at…what ever the hell she does or would do…just to see her nipples and then I posted this on-line? How do you think I felt when I “googled” Rebecca and got a blog from Matt Hearn talking about her nipples? Again, I would appreciate an apology. You could post it on your blog, email it to me, or send a carrier pigeon to my house. Please just apologize to Rebecca and all of her family who might have read your otherwise fairly entertaining blog and start speaking respectfully of women for now on, or else sometime you will write something and will end up getting your ass kicked by someone. For instance… if Rebecca was my wife, and she was married, I would kick your ass. I would beat the living crap out of you and hopefully you would lose your ability to type so you could never write such tripe again. That is how badly a beating I would give you. Lucky for you she is not my wife, she is my so I only expect an apology from you to her, myself and the rest of her family.
Ben Buswell
I am sure you can find my email if you really want to.
Ben,
I am looking for Becky’s email. She was in my Best of Broadway’s years ago. She is the real Broadway material. I am staging This Is Your Life JUDY GARLAND at The Residences of Rodney Square in May 2007 and would like her to take a look
Greer Firestone
http://www.BestofBroadwayProductions.com
302.494.3133
When you work for Greer Firestone, make sure you get paid in cash or he will tell you that his wife froze his account and bounch the check. Claims he in a bitter battle with her, wonder if she knows it. He still owes $150 but has a memory loss as to who he owes it to. Think he owes other people as well…
Erm. Why are Rebecca Buswell’s nipples a well-regard subject?