What a weekend of moronity! (I’m not sure moronity is actually a word, but then, I’m a moron, so I probably don’t care. Not sure. I’ll get back to you.) The primary moronic thing was that out of all the cool stuff that happened, I managed to take exactly zero pictures of it all. The concert, my tree, the party, the gig at National Cathedral: pictures, none. Was it because my camera is broken? No, it’s because I kept leaving it in my truck. I’m an idiot.
The weekend started out with a bang; I snuck out of work around 2pm (I put in 60 hours last week, so no, I did NOT feel guilty) and went to Vince’s, where I hit softballs with a big metal stick until Brian and Mary showed up, at which point we began to play the little par-3 course Vince’s has. I hit the ball reasonably well, meaning I was getting underneath it and getting good distance on most of my shots, which would nevertheless miss the intended target (the green) by 25-50 yards due to horrible aim and club selection. Lesson learned: own a sand wedge. I was between clubs on every hole without one. Anyway, we played two holes and then it began to drip, and then drizzle, and then downpour, because periodically God likes to remind me that I am His bitch.
After the rain abated, we finished up the round and I drove to the Deer Park, where I met a bunch of friends and got good and drunk before wandering over to Mitchell Hall for the Ychromes concert, which as usual was good, and included the requisite intermission run to Grotto’s for vodka shots. The guest group was enjoyable as well, although of course I have no idea who they were.
After the concert, we went to Friday’s to sober up a little bit, and I had me a massive “Atkins-friendly” cheeseburger and a lot of Diet Pepsi, after which we drove to Wade’s and I made the classic mistake of drinking a single beer atop the burger and cola. I drove home (sober, I swear), went to bed, and awoke at approximately 5am, still sober, but with a horrible stomach ache. After blowing chunks a few times into the john, my stomach recovered and I went back to bed.
Saturday, of course, I had the hangover to kill all hangovers, despite not really being all that blasted on Friday night. Again, God letting me know that not only am I His bitch, He’s going to tattoo His Name on my ass. Nevertheless, I managed to get up, drink some milk, swallow some tylenol, and make my way to Ag Day over on UD’s south campus (where they do all the agricultural stuff). I was in the market for a tree, and so I picked up a Miyabe Maple (I figured it could teach me Karate) and planted it in the front yard. Hopefully it’ll get pretty big over the next few years; our front yard is annoyingly devoid of trees, and this will help righteously.
After that I went home, and then Venessa (Rod’s girlfriend) showed up with Andrew Wang (Ychrome Alum) to hang out; Jared and V went to Ag Day, and Andy and I played MVP Baseball 2003 until they returned. I beat him, because I rule. Saturday night we went to the Waterfalls up in Claymont (where Mandy’s wedding went down; see A November to Remember) for the HTAC 30th Anniversary Semi-Formal (so 8th grade), which was nice, albeit expensive. Jared and I snuck out to a local liquor store and brought back some bottles of booze to make things a little cheaper on us. After the formal broke up at midnight we drove back to Newark for a party at Niles’ place. I think everybody should know someone named Niles. It’s just a money name, and he’s a money guy. We chilled there until about 2:30, at which time we made our getaway ’cause my dumb ass had to be up at 5 am to get to the cathedral by 6 to catch a bus down to National Cathedral in DC.
Not that I actually awoke at 5, because not only did God tattoo His Name on my rear, He loves it when I call Him Big Papa. I managed to get out of bed at exactly 5:57, rub deodorant in my hair, brush my armpits, comb my tongue, and throw on my cathedral uniform before running out the door and getting to the bus at 6:25. I got on the bus and said “CRAP. Forgot my camera. Dammit.” Then I thought, “Wait, I don’t think I ever took it out of the truck.” So I ran back to the truck, searched, didn’t find it, got back on the bus thinking, “I swear it’s in there.” (It was; I looked for it this morning and found it under a blanket. I need to clean out my truck.) Anyway, no pictures of National Cathedral, one of the coolest buildings I’ve ever seen. DAMNITOL.
We sang a preservice concert (featuring solo by Yours Truly on “Ev’ry Time I Feel The Spirit”) and then just sat in the Quire for the service, which was sung by the National Cathedral Choir of Men and Girls, Some Of Which Are Hot (The Girls, Not The Men (Okay, Some of the Men Were Hot Too) (And I’m Not a Letch Just For Saying That a 17 Year Old Girl Is Hot…Just A Dirty Old Man)). Brian showed up afterwards (he works in DC), got some audio for WDEL (including an amusing interview with our choir director) and then we rolled.
We stopped by WTOP so he could copy some audio, and then hit up McDonald’s for a good dose of Extreme Obesity Meal #8, Supersized, With An Extra Big Mac. Then we headed east towards Middletown to check out the house that he’s building, and then headed home, hitting annoying traffic, and then picking up my truck at the Cathedral, driving home, passing out for approximately 20 hours, and waking up with the fullest bladder since I got locked in that guy’s trunk and he drove to Vegas.
Lesson learned: always pee before you go to bed. And remember your camera when you go places. And if God says “Jump,” do not say “Jigga what?” or lightning will strike your house.
