How my weekend totally rocked my socks off

What a long, long, LONG weekend.

To make it easier on me and my fried little brain, I’ll do the walnut summary:

Friday. Mel arrived after Andrew invaded and ate all my dinner.

Saturday. It dawned rainy and cool, but Mel and I drove out to butt-f@#k nowhere in Maryland to get apples and pumpkins. I drove through TWO red lights in a magically ri-donk-ulous rotary on the way there. Mel declared us “city hicks.” We bought apples, pumpkins, honey, and potpourri – and then enjoyed our dirt path back to the highway (yay Bubba Blue!). Lunch was cheesesteaks and I got to watch Mel suck the potato filling out of her entire order of French fries (I would tell you why she was doing that, but I don’t need a slap upside the head, thank you very much).
Martha’s plane was late due to a leaky bathroom, so Eric, Mel and Andrew went to meet the crew at Buca di Beppo without us. Martha, Anthony and I were only an hour late, but hardly missed anything. There was wine chugging, a bachelorette party that invited Eric to ogle their breasts (“to guess their bra size,” he says), Kevin’s threat of sticking his woo-wah in Anthony’s wah-hoo, and a hearty sing-along including such classics as “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” “You give love a bad name,” and “Shut your fucking face, page-fucker!”
The Quaker Three-Way was officially held at Buffalo Billiards, where we crowned the birthday three (Mel with a tiara, Jeff with a goofy bat, and Andrew with a pimp hat). We met Andrew’s business school friends (although I didn’t get to meet the twins!) who introduced me to the WORST IDEA on the planet: drinking Patron. This inspired me to rekindle my old flame with Eric – the bartender who served me to the point of puking last year. Although this year I was that much more of a treat (and you didn’t think it was possible!), forcing the boys to kiss my cheek and convincing utter strangers to buy me drinks. In the end, Eric and I did a swell job of holding the bar firmly against the floor.

Sunday. A massive hangover. I puked three times (damn you, Patron!) and swore off alcohol for life – AGAIN. It was absolutely miserable. But, as Mel says, I rallied and Martha Stewart-ed my way through an evening of entertaining. Dinner for the girls, dessert of edible pumpkin and baked apples for all. Martha, Andrew, Jeff, Eric, Mel and I did some serious couching while reminiscing about our good old days at Penn.

Monday. I think I saw the sun rise. I made apple pancakes and homemade whipped cream for Martha and Mel, and drove Mel to Union Station to catch her train. Martha visited other friends while I did my homework. Andrew, Jeff, (Jeff’s roommate) Andrew, Anthony, Martha, Eric, Marilyn and I met up at Fado for Quizzo. I believe we (and by “we,” I mean “Page Fuckers” – gotta love the continuity) came in fifth out of 36 or 37, but I think we would have done better if there were any more John Holmes questions. Anthony is still kicking himself for the Pink Floyd question he had right and then made us change to the wrong answer. Andrew provided the Swedish fish so we all went home happy.

Tuesday. We leave Martha alone in the house to finish packing and when she goes to leave, she gets locked in the vestibule. She can’t reach me so she dials 911. Eventually, the firemen come to let her out and ring doorbells until my groggy neighbor Tim comes down in his pajamas to free her. This inspires me to finally call the DC Fire Marshall’s office and lodge an official complaint. I’ll tell you if anything comes out of this.

Wednesday (I'm forecasting here). Pictures forthcoming.