My weekend was of the boozy variety, so much so in fact that by 1 a.m. Friday night, after cheering on the Flyers at a rowdy sports bar and downing four beers, one of which was a Guinness-like concoction I inadvertantly ordered at a hipster hangout in graduate hospital, I totally felt like a college kid again. Until we came home and tipsily took in an episode of Say Yes to the Dress, per one of our guests’ request, because she knew someone on it. Which is when I realized that, dude, there is no going back. This grown-up thing? Here to stay, no matter how much I try to fight it with vodka grapefruits.
Other highlights of the weekend include Jon accidentally introducing Christy Lee as Christy Lee upon meeting her, even though, as I’ve specified here before, Christy Lee is not her actual name but rather merely her blog moniker, of which I hope she’s blissfully unaware. We also took Dave and Bridget on their inaugural trip to a gay bar (David on our waiter in the teeny-tiny shorts: “It’s like Hooters. But horrible.”) And we had a debate about healthcare reform that went something like this:
Dave: I’m a closet Republican
Jon: I’m a proud, French socialist
Me: I like poor people but also want to continue to be able shop at Anthropologie forever
Bridget: What’s Medicaid?
Just kidding. Kind of.
There was also some R&R poolside at Dave’s parents’ house in NJ, and a quick trip up to Scarsdale that was mostly marked by Dave and I screaming at the GPS all the way across the GWB, but also by getting to see my great aunt, the matriarch of the family who, at 95, is still sassier than I’ll ever be. Her advice to me? “Hang on to him. And behave yourself.” When I gave her my “whatever do you mean?” look, she shot one of a different variety right back at me. ” You know exactly what I mean,” she said. Well played, Aunt Florence. Well played.
Most importantly, of course, I was busy enough this weekend to completely distract the notoriously anxious and all-around crazy side of myself from the fact that my Ecuador vaca is inching closer and closer. As in, we leave on Friday. As in, I still have nothing booked. As in, my mom mentioned to Jake that Ben and Chels and I were flying out next week and his response was: “To where?” TO WHERE? To the place you were supposed to still be living, you twerp.
Part of me so wishes we were going to Wisconsin. More cheese, less volcanoes. Everyone wins.