In Coffee Spoons

Had me a fine weekend.

Annie and Ryan were up, and they came over Friday night. We took turns sucking ass at Cooking Mama, went out for pizza, sat on the curb outside Radio Shack and passed around a bag of marshmallows (while talking about how sad it was to be doing that) and then decided Erin was due to get drunk for the first time ever. And she did indeed! It was very adorable.

Erin: *weaving back and forth across room* Hahaha! I thought that whole balance thing was made up!

Annie: Can you hand me that?
Erin: No. Well, I could, but I'm lazy and I've got a drink in my hand.
Megan: See, NOW you're in college.

We were drinking rum and coke, UV Blue, and Jager bombs. Erin found out she likes all three, which I think increases the number of drinks she likes to...three. We got her to do a few shots as well, which she had said she would not do. (I think the shots were of the leftover pomegranate vodka? From when Holly came over?) Annie and I got "where did my pants go" bombed. Ryan killed half a bottle of Jager. On his own. In one drink. And was completely sober within a few hours. Good times. Good times.

P.S. Tattoo Dark Spiced Rum? Yummy yummy.

Saturday Annie and Ryan and I mini-road-tripped it on over to TC. Really, going anywhere from my house is a 2 hour drive. It's the shameless singing along to bad pop music that makes the mini-road-trip difference. We did a bit of aimless meandering in Hocus Pocus, which is really all one does in Hocus Pocus. The guy there did a couple tricks for Annie-- the one with the cups and the ball, the one with the little jewel stick-- and she was delighted, either because she possesses an innocent childlike joy or because she'd accidentally taken two Klonopin. We went to Borders, where I used up something like fifty bucks worth of credit card reward coupons-- got a book on the beginnings of modern surgery, a humongous H.P. Lovecraft collection, and a complete Arthur Rimbaud collection with a hideous blue and orange cover. (I say hideous, but I love it dearly.)

We also went to dinner at at one of those janky strip-mall Chinese buffets with Jake, a friend of Ryan's, and Jake's girlfriend Egg. Egg is not actually named Egg. But I cannot remember her real name. Because she is Egg. The food was awful. Annie and I were sitting together at one end of the table, exchanging pathetic expressions every time we tried something. The fried rice was bad. The fried rice. I'm not even sure how you do that. We were also sitting together at the end of the table ignoring Jake's chatter about dagohir and ignoring Egg. I think Jake's serious interest in dagohir pretty much sums up Jake.

The food was, in fact, so bad that Ryan treated us to ice cream afterwards. Which was awesome, because it was Cold Stone. And which sucked, because somebody fucking tipped.

Sunday I mainly spent going "blaaaaaaaaaaaargh" from an overdose of alcohol and human contact.

Good times. Good times.