Watching Survivor over the past few years has taught me something: if you win a Reward Challenge, lay low and shut the hell up. Because if you come back to your tribemates bragging about all the awesome food, drinks and good times you’ve had you’re liable to get shanked in the neck with a bamboo shoot, or at the very least find yourself in the exit interview as the credits are rolling and you’re talking about the “…wonderful learning experience…” you’ve just had.
With this in mind, I got home yesterday [I wrote this Monday] “very quietly”.
I had just spent a (the) highlight weekend with friends and I wasn’t about to come back to “camp” bloated on good time and run the risk of being choked to death by Leslie’s bare hands.
It went something like this:
Les: “Didya have a good time?”
Me: “eh. It was ok. Traffic was bad.”
Les: “That’s all. It was just ‘ok’?”
Me: “Yeah. And traffic was bad. Well… You know.”
Then there was this big ass, moment of death, pregnant pause. Neither of us said a word. I was trying to hold onto the whole not bragging thing, I think she was thinking I was about to ask for a divorce. She just stared. About that time my vagina started talking…
Me: “It’s just weird.”
Les: Still staring.
Me: “I’ve heard before that you’re supposed to ‘nurture relationships’ and all that crap. But I haven’t seen these people in over a year and it’s like we haven’t skipped a beat. We picked up RIGHT where we left off. All of us. Even the folks I’ve never met. It was so… good.”
I hate it when I get all like this. Especially about things like this weekend. Usually I’m able to explain things out to myself. You know, make sense of it. Laugh at it.
Not so right now. Right now I can’t get freakin’ Kumbaya out of my head.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Good & The Bad
Best Quote of the Weekend
Michelle: “…but I’ve only had nine drinks.”
Best Food of the Weekend
CW’s breakfast casserole. It was really made with heart (as well as other pig parts).
Worst of…
The “oh shit” moment hit me when I woke up Saturday morning after only three hours of really rough sleep with the knowledge that:
a.) I haven’t been drinking in a very long time.
b.) I quite possibly had two drinks, (maybe even three) more than I should’ve just a few hours before.
c.) the room I was in didn’t have the Coriolis effect going on when I went to bed.
d.) I had really told a bunch of folks I loved them earlier… But was that all I said?!
and
e.) I needed a new set of lungs. And a slew of new livers.
Actually, the well thought out plan– my strategy, had backfired. I figured I’d have a few drinks Friday night, then go for broke on Saturday. Instead I was simply broken all day Saturday. My ability to “hang” gave up. Yeah… Lightweight.
Anyway.
Cait, CW, ‘Stella, Brad, Natalie, Julie, Julia, Michelle, Scott, Patricia, Leo, Mark, Angela, LT, K, I can’t really add much to what’s already been said except ya’ll give really good weekend. And for me, this was the highlight weekend of ‘06.
Oh and CW, thanks for the tip about the trombone.
You are doing the right thing. Never, ever brag about how great a “girls weekend” was.
Everyone who was there knows. And that’s all you need. It’s an unexplained bond.
Innocent fun and immature humor. So, tonight we’ll work on my trombone lessons,
and have a chili dog.
Woman, you just made my day alot brighter.
To be clear, I gave no actual LESSONS on playing the trombone. Just a description. And the 2 1/2 hour movie.
Leslie, you are coming next time.
Yes you are.
Yes you ARE, infinity.
you’re awesome, mark.
kumbaya.
it was great seeing you again, mark.
You know, after all the comments I’ve read at everyone else’s blog, that is some really remarkable restraint. Downright impressive.
Also, I want in next time.
The best part about the weekend for me was that every single person was as awesome as I hoped they would be. I absolutely LOVED meeting you, Mark. Let’s talk CW and Natalie into doing this bi-annually. And yes, Leslie, we’ll actually COME AND GET YOU next time.
Don’t think we won’t. We have a van.
Trombone? OK GOTTA KNOW!!! SPILL LIL BRO
Dang…there goes my taste for chili dogs.
dude
you don’t have to invite me. just tell me where it is
‘your vagina started talking’ HAHHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA i love you man!
I just spewed hot tea out of my nose after reading Leslie’s comment.
And uh, dude, you weren’t the only one doing shooters at 3am on Friday, remember? Guess who else blew their wad right out the starting gate? ME, SUCKA!
I miss you, KUMBAYA!
oh and i’m totally haulin’ the PARTY BUS to go get your wife next time if she blows us off again next year. I HAVE YOUR NUMBER, LESLIE. Don’t think I won’t!
That’s a good point, Cait… Mark, I don’t remember YOU hobbling down to the Exxon for Immodium, Rolaids and Excedrin. I’m still shitting cherry vodka.
Dude, we drive RIGHT BY Macon (well, we COULD) on the way to Atlanta. You’ll be packing your shit for the next Meetup and, suddenly, Leslie won’t be there. Think about that. While you’re sharing a chilidog.