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| Tuesday, November 02, 2004 |
| Here's to you Bacchus! |
WARNING: This is long and detailed and probably only Cavi and I care. But it was a weekend to remember and I wanted to get it all down for posterity.
Boston more than lived up to its "my favorite city in the whole entire world not excepting London or Paris" designation. What a friggin' weekend, man. And it was right on schedule, too. I'm really not much of a "puke and rally" stay out until dawn partying kind of girl. But about every six months (Cinco de Mayo was the last time) I want to be that girl. Although, generally, I'm not a puker, thank goodness, and I definitely proved that this weekend.
Let's see. I'm going to preface this by saying that I know that some of this was stupid, and a bit unsafe. And, no, I don't think I'm immortal. But damn it was fun. Here is an honest account of our weekend.
Friday 5.15 pm, Cavi and I put our crappy work weeks, not to mention our crappy ex-boyfriends, behind us, packed up the truck, and headed out. We were both starved and stopped at McDonalds (considered by me to only be pre-debauchery food). I got a quarter pounder, fries, and a coke. I briefly considered making the gesture and getting a diet coke, but then I remembered what I was about to put in my mouth, and it seemed pointless.
We fell into the rhythm of the long drive. Just two girls, driving in a huge Dodge Ram 1500 wearing cowboy hats. Good conversation with each other, a few mobile phone conversations, a stop for gas, lots of CDs including our theme song, "Sin Wagon." I spent quite a long time playing with MSN on my phone talking to Paul, who has assumed the role of my very own personal cheerleader. He rocks and he has a British Accent, which only makes him rock harder.
One of us, I won't mention who, said, "I wonder what gin and coke tastes like?" But I will admit it was me who pulled the bottle out from under the back seat and decided to find out. But only a little bit, because 1) I hate gin and 2) I wasn't sure if Cavi would need me to drive.
We hit the Massachusetts state line at around 9.30pm, I think. With only an hour or so left, and Cavi still claiming the steering wheel, we had a brilliant idea while drinking Red Bull: Gin and Red Bull. So Cavi chugged half of the Red Bull and I replaced that with a shot of gin. We'll call that drink #1.
Got to the apartment at around 10.45 pm. and started to get ready for the costume party. Cavi was a "slutty teacher" and I was a cowgirl. I had a shot of gin, straight up. God, I hate gin. (#2). I met John and Dave, a pimp and Warren from There's Something About Mary, respectively. When we were finally ready, we hopped in J's SUV and were immediately handed a bottle of beer. (#3) It was a long drive into the city and it took us a while to find the house. (#4, 5, 6)
I suppose the party was frat-style, but since I went to a Catholic college with one bogus sorority, that's only an assumption. It was in a neat Victorian townhouse, though. There was much halloweening and many cans of beer. (#7-13) So, I'm leaning against a wall, taking in all the music and costumes, feeling comfortably sloshy inside and altogether quite hedonistic. Then I see this older guy with a really authentic cop costume. (yes, I know...wait for it...wait for it...) Cavi must have seen in my eyes that I was about to say something to him and she was about to grab me when the completely authentic cop shut the party down. But here's some highlights: I seem to remember seeing a guy dressed like a cow sitting in a chair holding his udder and asking him if he needed help with that; telling a cowboy that my belt buckle was bigger than his; advising some guy on which side of the deck would be best to pee off of; grabbing a shark's fins and poking him in the eye; and taking a good size grab of some cute guy's ass because, apparently, I could.
The ride back to the apartment was probably the closest I've ever come to throwing up from booze. When we got home at around 3am, I fell face first on the bed in my clothes and didn't wake up until Cavi's alarm went off at 7am. The guys were coming at 8.30 to take us to the parade.
What I know about baseball could fit into a dixie cup. And not a party dixie cup either, more like the ones you keep in the bathroom for mouthwash. So, yeah, all this is going to seem bandwagon. Hell, it is bandwagon, but I defy anyone who was in Boston for that parade in that atmosphere to remain neutral. It was amazing! The streets were alive. Music, horns, confetti, cheers. We bought some cigars and some clove cigarettes (Great idea, but another "only on a weekend of debauchery" thing). Hung out on the streets for a bit and finally found an open bar (even better idea). 10.00am now. One pint of Sam Adams down (#1) and working on a Coors Light (#2) when we decide that it's about damn time for some tequila. Up at the bar to get it was when I made my one and only "conquest" of the weekend. His name was Sim and he was Canadian. He let me try his L.I. Iced Tea and then he came over to our table and did a shot of Jose with us. (#3). A few minutes later he was back bringing us another shot of tequila, which was, quite obviously, not Jose. (#4) He and his friends left and that was the end of our brief but shining, whirlwind affair.
Then we cheered as all the players went by, and got some pretty good shots of the players and the crowd. However, much to Cavi's chagrin, we didn't get one of Johnny Damon. Then we went for a post parade beer at a bar closer to the apartment. (#5)
A brief lull in the action between 2 and 6 which was still a fun day, but not much to write about, so shall remain pretty much undocumented except I will post a picture that is better left unexplained.
Saturday night we hopped into D.'s SUV (#6) and drove to Dick's Last Resort. Had food, a 32 oz beer (#7, 8, 9) in a bucket of ice, and a "mini-Guinness" shot (#10). The waitress made me a hat out of paper that said I HEART DICK'S. Cavi got a balloon tied to her ponytail that said 10 CENT LAP DANCES. D. (the birthday boy) got a hat with balloons that said "All I want is to be ridden like a mechanical bull." (This was ironic for reasons yet again better unexplained.) I can't remember what J.'s hat said.
Then back in the SUV (#11) we changed in to our costumes. I'm not even going to tell you what I was supposed to be that night, but it involved fishnets. We made a stop at some friends who made us 2 Lemon Yellow DEATH Shots made with Everclear (#12, 13) and drank a gin and tonic. (#14). Did I mention I hate gin?
Couldn't find the party (surprise, surprise) so we went to a club. Danced, drank beer, watched D. get 2nd place in the costume contest. He totally should have won, I mean come on...Teen Wolf won, not Warren? (#16, 17, 18) We also had this disgusting shot called a Jelly Donut. (#19) (The funny thing about that was we were wracking our brains to try to come up with a shot that started with J... J...J...what starts with J? It wasn't until driving home on Sunday afternoon that we realized we could have a had a nice shot of Jack and not some sweet Grenadine crap.) Left the club and went for a late night pizza. Dropped fishnets and peed behind the SUV in Fenway Park's parking lot next to a pimp, also peeing. Fell asleep HARD in the car, drooling all over the pimp. Somhow got up apartment stairs. Crashed. As you can see, this night is a bit less clear in my memory.
Drove home Sunday afternoon. Talked about how we probably should be dead. Gave ourselves the "damn you girls can hold your liquor" prize. Called doctor, scheduled dual liver transplants for Thursday.
Now I'm back to studious, non-smoking, 1 drink a week Lori, minus some brain cells which we think I lost in the parking lot of Fenway park. But she's a pretty cool girl, too.
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posted by LoRi~fLoWer
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| 1 Comments: |
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You don't even want to know some of the places to which my dear brother has exposed me. Shaking your head, bro? Do you not remember Thursday night at O.C.H?
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You don't even want to know some of the places to which my dear brother has exposed me. Shaking your head, bro? Do you not remember Thursday night at O.C.H?