The weekend was a jam-packed one, and it didn’t leave me much time for any kind of self-reflection and intellectual introspection that I usually reserve for this blog. (Yeah, right.) Let me rewind the events of the weekend to get to Friday, a random night where not much happened other than random things…
vvrp verp Car dealership, free car battery under warranty during oil change vrip vrap Work day spent finishing weekend work vrrp vvip Trivia comeback to no win during NHL All-Star game where there were no Red Wings plus Pistons barely lose to Rockets vvvp Ate out at Chili’s vvvp Visited Grams vvvp Met up old friends Saturday night vvvp After working vvvp After nursing hangover… click clack… CLUNK
Okay, rewinding was about as exciting as the Twitter experiment (again, yeah right)… Basically, on Friday, my brother was working in a speakeasy, so to speak. It was an interactive play that took place during the 20’s, that acted as a fundraiser for a local theatre troop. I passed the goons guarding the door using the password that not many guessed.
Goon: “What’s the password?”
Goon: “You may enter.”
My other family members worked the open bar so in my double-fisting of rum and cokes, the ratio of everything went like this:
PLASTIC < COKE < ICE < HANDS < RUM
In turn, this lead to me achieving a sufficient level of what I call “Wedding Drunk” (it’s a different form of “Superhero Drunk” and fodder for a future post). As the festivities wound down, the group I was with headed to a local hole-in-the-wall bar, where I proceded to karaoke a Weezer song after my cousin Steve ignited the party with his rendition of “Sweet Caroline” (also fodder for another post).
My brother was absent from this collection of the acting troupe, and our rides were kicked out for being trashed (well, at least Richie was the one deemed smashed out of the Venessa and Jess Trifecta). Steve and I were left behind with the Actors! and someone else offered to drive us to an afterparty once the bar started closing.
(SIDE STORY: Steve had spotted one woman earlier in the night that made him proclaim – “She will be flashing her breasts at some point tonight.” He was right. The things you learn while away at college.)
To be honest, I have never seen such a magnificent driver as Kate, a.k.a. She who drove Steve and I elsewhere. While searching for Toto’s Africa and Asia’s Heat of the Moment on her Zune, her path never waivered – not one bit. We were going to drive to her house to pick up her dog, but we kept driving around through a subdivision and eventually ended up at the final destination. We wondered why we didn’t stop and get the dog. Kate’s answer:
My boyfriend was there.
Around 3am, the repo man showed up and took our gracious host’s truck. Major buzzkill. We called for a taxi. (They hung up on us repeatedly while we were trying to figure out where we were.) We parted ways with the Actors! around 4am. I b.s.’d with the bald driver of the Chrysler 300 about life, politics, the universe, and religion, and ate macaroni and cheese once back at the Trifecta’s homebase.
In closing… Viva la Wedding Drunk! Boo-Hiss Repo Men!