I had a good weekend but am completely uninspired to write a post about it. About anything really. I feel like maggots climbed into my ear and gangbanged my brain. Okay, in all honesty I wouldn't know how that actually feels. So I'll just say it feels like what I imagine that would feel like. See what I mean? Forget it.
On Friday Geo and I hit up BJs to pick up stuff for our dinner party the following night. I love BJs. Yeah, so do you right? Although we're talking about two different things. I am talking about the warehouse club, where one gets to purchase 18 bars of Dove soap for 5 dollars or 50 rolls of toilet paper for 12 dollars. You get to run around and pretend you're stocking up your bomb shelter. Bliss.
On Saturday Janelle and I threw a "Siete de Mayo" party, because we felt like drinking and eating Mexican food. It was kind of amusing to watch us in the kitchen, we had no idea what we were doing. I tossed everything and its mother onto the steak for the fajitas, including oyster sauce. Does that make it fusion Chinese-Mexican food. We'll just pretend it does, because it makes me feel like Bobby Flay.
One day by the way, I hope to have close friends (besides Mike and Paul) who aren't Filipino or black. Then perhaps, I can throw a dinner party, put "5:00 p.m." on the invitation and have people show up near that time, instead of at 9:00. Or 11:00 (Tony and Abel!) Janelle wanted to sing some karaoke, so we plugged in the machine and made Mike sing "Hava Nagila." At first we let the machine pick songs randomly, but after listening to "Old MacDonald" and "Do That To Me One More Time" we decided maybe that wasn't such a stellar idea.
Afterwards we played Kings to get good and liquored up. Kings is that drinking game where you pick a card and every card means something, like a Queen means pick anyone to drink or 10 means you have to pick a word and everyone has to say a word that rhymes with it or they drink. You have to play Kings when you start drinking at a party, it's like stretching before running laps. Although the way we played it, we decided to change the name of the game to "Steve Drinks." By the end of the game though it had degenerated into Americans versus Australians and by the end-end of the game it had degenerated into Americans versus Australians who aren't Ed or Ray. Which meant STEVE DRINKS hooray!!
On Sunday we gathered up the fam (including Geo's parents, his sister and her son) and braved the rabid crowds at restaurants. You know, all those hordes of people feeling guilty that they treat their parents like shit the other 364 days of the year and think one lousy meal will compensate for it. Net called the Hoolies in Weehawken and they told her it was only a 30-minute wait, but when we got there it was a fricken 2-hour wait. They pretended she must have called a different Houlihan's, instead of that they're big fucking liars becuase there's only one Houlihan's in that area. Bastards. But I wasn't about to go home after already waiting an hour so we hit up the bar. A Ketel One (with a pretend splash of cran) later and I was feeling like it wasn't a bad wait at all.
Bartender: Did you want the vegetarian lettuce wraps or the chicken ones?
Me: No no, we're going to need something with a dead animal in it please.
Picture of me and Geo taken by our 4-year-old nephew Noble.