From the Borough of Sixburgh! Six and the City! XLIV: Stairway to Seven!

I only wish I were clever enough to have come up with any of the above. They weren't me. They were people much, much more clever than I.

I promise this will be the only and last time that I write about the Super Bowl.

Before I do - I DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR OPINION ON THE GAME AND THIS IS NOT A FORUM ABOUT IT. I don't care if you think the officials made bad calls (ahem, BOTH WAYS). I don't care if you think we didn't win convincingly. Let me be clear: I DO NOT CARE. This is not a blog about the technicalities of a football game. I can point you to any number of message boards if you want to talk about that. This is a blog about an event that made a city, families, old friends, new friends, perfect strangers and even foreigners find common ground. It's a blog about how emotional and wonderful it was to share it with my family. It's a recounting for me of a very happy weekend. You screw that up for me, you'll deal with me. GOT IT?

And so, on Friday night after I was done with work, my wonderful co-worker CK took me to the airport and I made the flight home. I had a layover in DC. On that layover, what you could tell was that many, many, many people had done what I had done and taken the first flight out after work to get into Pittsburgh in time for Super Bowl weekend. Every other seat on the plane was a black and gold jersey. The plane was engaged in chatter about the game, and, not surprisingly if you've ever visited Pittsburgh, what the *food* during game time would be. Sausage was the big winner.

I land in Pittsburgh and there's too much night snow for me to go to my mother's, so it's off to Pookie's until the morning. You know that Pookie and I have had long, rough work weeks when, upon seeing each other for the first time since Thanksgiving, the extent of our interaction is "Awesome to see you, I'm going to bed."

By the way, here is our official sibling picture from Super Bowl Sunday. I'm sure half of you will see it again in the holiday letter this year.




Yep. Saturday, by the way, is a nearly perfect day in ways unrelated to the Steelers. I pretty much sit on the couch and watch CNN all day. My mother brings me food. Doreen comes over and they play Scrabble online while I mock them (I swear to God, they actually put down words and then say "I don't know what that means" and then DON'T look it up.), my mom brings me more food, my dad wanders around, I leave the house only once to visit the Michelle and Dawn and conveniently Brianne. Mostly, I sit on a couch and my mom brings me food.

At some point in the day, my Mom suggests that I open my Christmas gifts that are still there...

OH, WAIT. Not only are my Christmas gifts still there, but they are sitting UNDERNEATH THE CHRISTMAS TREE THAT IS STILL STANDING PROUD ON FEBRUARY 4TH. It's true. My mother apparently would like to have it up long enough to have paid only a dollar a day for each day it was up. My mother and Doreen, by the way, but the huge tree up themselves. I am baffled by that. "But mom," I say, "There are young men all over this lovely little town who would have loved to put that tree up for you for $20."

"Yes," my mother says, "I was thinking of going down to the AKL frat house and asking if anybody wanted the gig."

That part of the story was only included so that Pookie could read it and laugh. But anyway...

So my mom has me open my presents. You are not ever, EVER, going to believe what she has purchased for me. A multi-hundred dollar price tag gold Steelers necklace charm. If you look closely in the picture above, you can see it hanging from my neck. She did. She purchased that. And it's perfect. And I've worn it every day since. HOWEVER, I am still not unconvinced that she purchased it only as a way to keep me from feeling as though I'd need to get another tatoo in the event that the Steelers won. But who's the best mom? The mom who buys Steelers jewelry for her kid.

She fed me a lot, too. I love my mom.



But I'm not sure you care so much about my bonding day with my mother. I have a feeling that Sunday is your concern.

The plan was to meet up with Pookie and Honeydunce around 3:00pm and head over to the bar to secure a great table. You may remember that gametime is at 6:30, but people are dedicated. It turned out that the bar the kids had chosen didn't open until four, so we diverted to another local watering hole on the way there. There, the bartender wore a Steelers jersey (but who in that city on that day didn't?) and smoked a cigar while serving us beer. That bar also boasted this as the primary art - NOT put up just for the game. Check out Cowher's face in the one on the left.



I should mention that I arrived at Pookie's place and mentioned that I didn't have a Terrible Towel with me (I forgot to pack it in the rush). UNACCEPTABLE, was his response, and a phone call was quickly made to Honeydunce to procur one, which was also effectively done. Sunday was not a day to be without your towel.

On the way to meet Honeydunce, at every stop light, people were waving their towels out of the window, or looking over at you and giving the high five though the closed car window. If you passed somebody in Steelers gear (by which I mean "if you drove past ANYBODY"), you honked and went ballistic. Here are Pookie and Honeydunce all done up in their Steelers gear before the game.



So, we get to the bar. It's pretty much perfect. It gets so crowded in there during the game that people actually go back to their homes to obtain chairs so that they will have something to sit on. And also, as though another reason was needed to love Pittsburgh, two pitchers of Yuengling, two rum and cokes, two Mikes Hard and a FREE BUFFET and a total bill of $28. Yep.

And also, these guys were there.



Yep.

The first half of the game is awkward. If you watched the game, you know that Pittsburgh had a lead and contained Warner/Fitzgerald pretty well, but it was never a comfortable lead for anybody who understands how quickly Warner/Fitzgerald can light it up. And then ... the Harrison 100 yard interception return.

I WISH I'd taken the prop bet on an interception return for a touchdown by any player. I thought about it. The math made sense given Pittsburgh's defense and how much you figured Warner would put the ball in the air. Bad on me. It doesn't matter though, all the money in the world wouldn't have been the same as that bar when that happened. There was a delayed reaction as people really realized that he'd intercepted the ball on the goal line. Then...you see him running...then you realize that we won't get a play off unless he either goes down right away or returns it for a score...then there's that first cluster in the middle of the field that he has to dance around ... then the leap over the downed tackler...then..then...will Fitzgerald get him before the goal line....NO! HE'S IN! HE'S IN! IT'S A TOUCHDOWN! AND THE CROWD GOES CRAZY!!!!

The bar is UP! Now this is a game. NOW the defense has shown up. NOW. And I just happened to grab my camera as Harrison stumbles to the back of the endzone. If you look closely on the tv you can see it. And the towels were out.



OH YES.

Things get even better. Bruce ROCKS the halftime show. Ferris sends me the classic text "OMG - Bruce Springsteen just teabagged the camera." Very few halftime shows really feel like you're at a rock concert. This one did. And Bruce - he looks GOOD for his age. GOOD.

The second half - WHAT an emotional roller coaster. Arizona finally figures out how to get Fitzgerald free. They start scoring like we knew they could. We get pinned in our endzone. I don't know that I can accurately describe the feeling in the bar. There's a sudden realization that we really may not end up the champs of Super Bowl XLIII. We may walk out of there in tears that night. We may...it's almost unreal to imagine at that point. I spend most of the second half of the game standing outside of our booth, or standing on top of the booth. Every time they score, Honeydunce lets loose with such a string of profanity that I feel as though she really *is* my sister. The mood is not amazing.

And then we realize that we will have the final drive.

The mood, again, is strange to describe. There's a fear, a palpable fear, in the room that we may not win. We don't have the lead, and Arizona has all of the momentum. But we all know exactly how many games we won this season in the last two minutes. It was the majority of the games we won. We know we're capable. Just...on any given Sunday...could this be the Sunday we don't pull off a miracle drive?

It doesn't look good.

But then we convert the third and long and people, well, they perk up. I'd say stand up, except that they entire bar has been standing since we started the drive.

Then Santonio does a catch and run for 40 yards, and we all realize that it would take a fluke to not make a field goal and send the game into overtime, but from the seven yard line, this game could be ours. It could be...

Then. The.Play. Even Steelers haters have conceded it was a perfect throw and a perfect catch. Say what you want about the rest of the game, or the rest of the drive, but in that moment a passer and a reciever connected perfectly on the string, and it was a thing of beauty.

And.the.bar.goes.wild. Immediately, though, there is a hush. We ALL know it's going into review. Cries of "There's NO WAY" that can be overturned and "We have it, we have it" are heard. And then the ref takes the field again and puts his arms in the air, and nothing is the same for the rest of the night. There are the brief handholding moments while Arizona, a team capable of making a killer last drive takes the field. But we know time is against them. And when we take the final knee, I'm not the only person in the bar with tears in my eyes. I'm tearing up right now just remembering it.

The guys at the table in front of us? They had brought three bottles of cheap champagne to the bar in case of a win. They opened them and passed them around. That's how we do it there.




Yep. And then it was out into the streets.

A lot has been said about how Pittsburgh feels about their Steelers. About the loyalty it inspires across the nation for people. I'm not sure it was ever better represented than it was in the streets after the win. Families, clad in Steelers gear, with babies in strollers and toddlers on their shoulders came out so their kids could experience this. A sixty-year old mother who watched the game at home with her twenty-something son, all done up, and out to watch the party. Frat boys and indie kids. Drunk people and sober people. People playing the accordian and hundreds and hundreds of poeple just standing in a street and waving a $8 towel over their heads in joy. People reinacting the last catch (including my goofy brother who ended the demonstration by plummeting to the ground). Sure, as is documented, the behavior wasn't perfect citywide that night. But the intent of 99% of the participants wasn't violent and didn't lead to any desctruction, just some party dust left over at the end.

I've lived in other NFL cities. I lived just south of Indianapolis, and that's not a city that's indifferent to its football team. I spent eight years in San Francisco and its sister-city Oakland (okay, that's like the slighltly less smart slutty sister, but still). Those are not cities that are indifferent to their football teams. I met some AMAZINGLY dedicated Giants fans at the Super Bowl last year.

Nobody does this like Pittsburgh. I'm sorry. Say what you want. Nobody feels their teams wins and losses like that city. Troy Polamalu, a guy from Hawaii who went to USC, said at media day, "I cannot imagine any other team having a relationship with its city the way the Steelers do with Pittsburgh." And I believe him to be right.

I worked the next day and then went to the airport. The TGIFridays at the airport was packed with black and gold jerseys of people who had come home to watch the game with their families just like I had. Five of us, all in a row, had done that. Don't ever tell me professional sports are now only a corrupted business. And for the cities and teams where that's true, it doesn't have to be like that. It can be something more if you work at it hard.

Here are some of my favorite pictures from the streets after the Super Bowl. You can see all the weekend pictures here. And I have notes. And I'm actually crying as I wrap up this entry because that weekend was exactly that perfect. And now we're Sixburgh.





10 extra thoughts on the game, the season...etc.
1. I hope Kurt Warner comes back to play next season. I know he's old. He knows he's old, but if you just played as well as he played this season, you've got at least one more in you. You're not done yet. But more importantly, I think his influence on the younger Arizona players is such a powerfully good thing. I think Larry Fitzgerald's best shot at a Super Bowl while he's young is with Warner. And I think Lienhart's a joke.

2. I hope Ken Wizenhunt makes something really special happen in Arizona. I hope he gets the support he needs from the owners and the city.

3. I hope Tom Brady comes back at full force next season. I know it makes it harder on my team, but the league isn't the same without him.

4. People always get into that debate about who got the better deal the year that Eli, Phillip Rivers and Ben were drafted. I think it's Pittsburgh. Not because Ben is necessarily the best quarterback out of the three, but because Pittsburgh got a quarterback who was PERFECT for their philosophy, their team, their system, their fans. Eli (who I think is probably the best quarterback of the bunch) I don't think will ever be able to excel to his absolute potential in the pressure cooker of New York. And Phillip Rivers? See below. In essence, over rated. Ben is the right quarterback in the right situation, and that's probably more valuable than the most talented quarterback in a middling situation. Think about it: Payton Manning is a great quarterback wherever he goes, but does he become PAYTON MANNING in a system more controlling and more high strung and more volatile emotionally than Indianapolis? Is Payton Manning instead PAYTON MANNING if he ends up with, say, the Redskins or the Raiders? Probably not.

5. Somebody in San Diego is over-rated, and don't say Norv Turner because I don't know anybody who thinks he's all that good anyway. So, okay, I'll be the one to say it. Either Lawrence Taylor (whom I will NOT call LT) or Phillip Rivers is over-rated. You don't play in a division that weak with two players who are supposed to be as amazing as those two are and finish 8-8 if those two are both as good as people think they are. I'm just saying...

6. I forgot to mention that one of our favorite moments on Sunday was when the Troy Polamaul Coke Zero commercial came on and every big, burly dude in the bar was like "SHHHHHH. Troy's on."



7. But for my money, the best Super Bowl commercial was the Clydesdales. Here you go.



8. However, I'm not sure there will ever be as great a commercial as the "Rocky" Clydesdale commercia.



9. Just to reiterate: 2 pitchers of Yuengling, 2 Mikes Hard, 2 rum and coke, FREE BUFFET. $28.

10. We missed you, Ferris. We really, really did.

 

Hi. I'm Back.

There's a lot going on right now. But, this week:
- We wrap up Mongolia
- You finally get to hear about Kim's Birthday
- The long-awaited story of the drama of losing ALL of my photo IDs AND my social security card
- Pennsylvania recap

You can amuse yourself until then with a handful of pictures from Saturday in The Strip District in Pittsburgh.

 

For Those About to ROCK: The Annual Pilgrimage for Pookie's Birthday

I'm not sure if doing the same thing for two years in a row makes it a tradition, but I'm going with it. We've (by "we" I mean shamus and myself) all gone home for Pookie's birthday two years in a row now. So that makes it a tradition. And if we don't do it next year, it will be like, "Oh, we're breaking tradition. We have to go home for Pookie's birthday."

Also, if you would like to see my entire collection of pictures from the trip (including some by shamus and some by Pook and some by Honeydunce), click here.

And yes, there's something somewhat wrong about the idea that we've made Pookie so special that trips across the continent for his birthday are a regular event. I have no answers, per usual.

Firstly, you should know that this was the conversation about coming home for Pook's birthday.

Me
So, my DUI hearing is the same day as your birthday, so I guess I'm coming in for your birthday.

Pookie
Awesome. My sister is getting sober for my birthday.

Me
I'm not. I'm really not.

Day One: This is AWESOME.
So, I arrive Thursday night. I have breakfast with mom. I head to court to hang out with MD. Things are done. Things are not done. Things are sometimes frustrating. MD makes me laugh. I head to Pookie's house, where shamus is napping and listening TO THE MOST GOD AWFUL NOISE FUCK I HAVE EVER HEARD. shamus has apparently realized that a cab from the airport to Joel's cost $70. Ouch. He shows me gay YouTube celebrities. This is what we do.

We go to lunch. Pizza and tiny jugs of sugar, or iced tea if you prefer to call it that. We talk to an old lady about a bakery. We go to Jerry's used records. We have cupcakes. shamus cruises the around in a $300 t-shirt. I make the guy at the cupcake store listen to a five minute speech about how I wish I were bulimic because boys would like me better. Shamus does not like cripples. It's a good afternoon. Our sugar high begins to crash, though, and we want a nap, so we head back to Pookie's Hippie Shack.



And ten minutes after we nap ... the Pookie explosion busts through the door. And the world is happy. Though he needs a nap, too. So we all nap.

And then we head to dinner to meet up with Ferris and Honeydunce. There are two things you should know about dinner:

a. It is the first time that any of us are meeting Honeydunce, and while Pookie may not want to hear this, expectations are frankly low since we didn't like any of the last couple of girlfriends of his we met. Or didn't meet because they were noticeably absent at important events. And while we immediately fell in love with Honeydunce, I, in retrospect, feel badly for that poor girl. Firstly, when you put Pookie, Ferris, shamus and myself in a foursome together for the first time in over twelve months, it tends to escalate into an explosion of inappropriateness. At one point, I'll even admit, I go as far as to ask Honeydunce "On a scale of one to ten, how into my brother are you?" What's awesome about the fact that I just wrote that is that Pookie was in the bathroom when I did that and may just now be heating up in embarrassment that I did that to his girlfriend. The poor girl is literally bombarded. And I have to say, she held up like a pro. Like it didn't even phase her. She's the first one I've ever liked. She also had to put up with point "b", which is equally awesome.

b. We happen to be eating dinner in a Thai restaurant that is DIRECTLY across the street from the apartment building where shamus' uncle overdosed on heroin and died. And shamus happens to be sitting in the direction such that all through dinner what he's looking at is the apartment building where his uncle overdosed on heroin and died. For those of you who hang out with shamus and I, you know how sometimes I'll look at shamus and go, "You know, at least I think that the guy I'm dating now probably isn't going to put a shot gun in his mouth and kill himself," and then we laugh at that situation like it's funny instead of tragic because that's how we deal? Well, pretty much throughout dinner shamus would periodically say, "It's AWESOME that I'm having dinner and staring at the apartment where my uncle overdosed on heroin and died," and then we would all laugh like that situation was funny instead of tragic because what else do you do with that?

Honeydunce was a trooper. I love her.



After dinner we head to the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern where Allies has a show that night. Several awesome things, pretty much in this order, happen at the BBT.

- The Pens game is on. With just minutes to go in the third period, the Rangers come back to tie the game. The ENTIRE bar suddenly goes from moderately noisy to DEAD QUIET. Nobody is talking. There is no noise AT ALL. And then, with just a minute or so left, Crosby scores the go-ahead (and ultimately winning) goal and the place goes CRAZY. I feel entirely home.

- Honeydunce introduces me to my new favorite drink, which is vanilla vodka and pineapple juice and it tastes like a pineapple upside down cake.

- I eat six pirogies. Here is a note to self: no matter how much you may WANT the pirogies, they're not going to sit well with you after a Thai meal.



- Beautiful Kim shows up with her finance and somebody else we went to high school with. None of us remember the other kid we went to high school with, but perhaps that is because he probably wasn't hot in high school and now he is HOT.


- Andy and Fred show up and are, traditionally, Andy and Fred.



And then Allies play, and they rock. And my favorite thing about an Allies show is that Pookie spends a not insignificant amount of time playing with his back to the audience, all like "I would be rocking whether you were here or not." And Vesley, whom I hear is about to cut off the mane, hasn't cut if off yet and he lets it down for one song. And the band plays my favorite track, which is a track Pookie wrote after we got home from Hawaii for shamus' 30th birthday the other year. And teenage girls swoon and the Gods of rock smile and all is good.




And Ferris takes us home because Pookie wants to do shamus and I a "favor" by staying at Honeydunce's that night so we can have more space.

I should mention, by the way, that there has been no toilet paper at Chez Pookie since we arrived. I used the last tiny square within the first fifteen minutes. That is all.

Day Two: I got your Kayapolitan right here, and an Ass Cupcake
For the record, I have nothing to do with that Ass Cupcake conversation. I am just here to relay the information.

We begin the morning by meeting up with my mother in Cal, PA. By we I mean me, Pook, Honeydunce, shamus and...Doreen Conaway. Yes, my mother's BFF was in full force too. And later in the day Janet Batemen joined us as well, so it was all kinds of generational. I don't have a lot to report because the visit was in general extremely pleasant and relaxed and my mother serves lots of food and I wash my hair over a sink which is CRAZY since she just basically installed a new shower for me and I accidentally mention that I bought cocaine off of somebody that we all know, which, you know, is problematic information on many levels. And we sit outside and it's warm and breezy and smells like fresh grass and then shamus insists on putting his balls near my face and EVERYTHING IS RUINED LIKE ALWAYS.

Though, you know, that move on his part is really only fair since in Hawaii that one time I stuck my bikini clad butt right in his face. We're even now. Here are some pictures of the day.






Joel, shamus and Honeydunce head back to nap. I take a trip to Chez Woo to visit C-Woo and Tyler and Cienna. Those kids are getting ridiculously big. Cienna is so articulate now - she can have a full conversation with you if she feels so inclined. She's also quite good at getting her way. She'll stand in front of you with a book and big eyes. If you don't read it, she'll just open the book and put it on your lap. Eventually you realize that she's headstrong like her mama and she's going to win. And Tyler is just a flirt. Who likes food. And hockey. We know which parent he takes after. And it's so nice to catch up with C-Woo because she's one of the only people I know who will listen to some of the retardo decisions I'm making right now and not just say, "You're a moron." It's almost like she expects them, which is a good and bad thing.



After that but before a non-existent nap that I had planned on, I meet up with shamus and Ferris for more cupcakes. We take our cupcakes and our coffee and go sit on the steps of a church in Squirrel Hill. I first start explaining that part of the reason that I don't move back to Pittsburgh is because of the lack of eligible men to date. I mean, I'm not going to die alone or anything because I've got some cats and some gays, but I might like to find somebody ... someday. This confession immediately turns into a fun game for the boys called "What about him?" "What about him?" sounds a lot like this:

"What about that douchebag in the track pants and sandals?"

"What about the old guy?"

"What about the punk rock teenager? Oh, wait, he's a little old by your standards."

"What about the guy with bad hygiene?"

And on and on. Then, a conversation that I don't even understand begins to happen about eating cupcakes out of asses. I mean, I don't even pretend to acknowledge what was said. That is all.

We make it back to Pookie's. There is no nap time. There is change and roll out time. So I change, and we roll out. To official birthday dinner, which is at this place.

Joining us at dinner are Moon and C-Woo. B-Funk mystically disappeared on us, but that's how he rolls.

I have many favorite parts of dinner. In no particular order:

- Well, one could not overlook the invocation of "ass cupcake" throughout the entire meal. I'm still unclear as to whether "ass cupcake" is a term of endearment or a verb. I'm not sure I want to know.

- Oh yes, Honeydunce steals Ferris' move and the unicorn is brought out in full force. That's really just funny every time. It's like the jackal, but not.



- Political debate 2008, at which point I move seats. In this argument, Moon argues, shamus may or may not argue (I couldn't tell), C-Woo tries to argue and is shut out and really they're all pretty much on the same side in the end, which is the strange part.

- "Oh, I knew your last boyfriend, I was out on the trail with him when you two were breaking up! He was pretty upset." This is by far my FAVORITE moment. It was actual perfection. If I could have reached across and kissed Moon for giving us that moment, I would have.

I'm not sure if this means that we rock, or that we're middle-aged, but we closed that tapas and martini joint DOWN.




And then ... off into the night.

The Last Morning: On a scale of one to five ...
We spend the last morning before shamus and I fly out at the 61c having coffee. We play this game: "On a scale of 1 to 5, how would you rate Pookie's life so far in the category of (insert category) by the age of 31?"

Pookie doesn't like the game and decides that we ALL have to play if we're going to play.

The next category up is "fashion."

Ferris is wearing a Mac OS X t-shirt. His excuse is that he's headed home to do yard work.

Me
I give Ferris a 2.5 for fashion.

Pookie
I'll give him a 3.5. It makes a statement.

shamus
I give him a stupid point dumb.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, pretty much sums us up. Stupid.Point.Dumb.

Till next year, when hopefully my DUI will be resolved and we once again turn Pookie's birthday into a federal holiday.

 

Crazy Is As Crazy Does

I'm home in Pennsylvania right now for "business", as my mother calls it. Today, while I was recovering from a stressful morning that I'm sure I'll tell you about later, my cousin Loretta calls to ask if my grandfather ever had hallucinations before he died. She's asking this because my great aunt, who is near death, is hallucinating that there are men in the ceiling. For the record, I, too often hallucinate that there are men in my ceiling, but it's usually after watching porn. Or "Supernatural."

Anyway, here was the follow-up conversation.

Me
So, did Pap ever hallucinate right before he died?

My Mom
Sure. He hallucinated that there were little people, and they were coming out of the baseboards. And he was convinced that they were having sex underneath the floor boards.

Me
Good to know I'm not the only crazy one in this family.

 

Big Time, Cell Phones, Snowballling and Mexico

So for a couple of days now, I've been trying to put a real journal entry together about my trip home to Pennsylvania to spend time with my mother, the Woodalls and Ferris for his big birthday (age STILL undisclosed)...and, of course, Pookie, Dana and Jai. And the thing is, I haven't been able to do it. There are dozens of stories that are funny to me, and funny to the people there, but they won't be funny to you. You know, because they're the kind of stories that are funny because all of the people involved know all of the history behind them, or are emotionally intimate enough to understand the laughter. So while the trip was amazing and perfect, it wouldn't be funny to anybody but us. But for those of us who participated, let us just take a moment and remember:

- Larry using a Buffalo Wild Wings as a locational reference point to guide me somewhere
- "I thought taking a walk to the park would be nice."
- "So what if I don't have a cell phone - I WAS THE FIRST ONE TO DINNER."
- BIG TIME
- "Clyde is here, Ferris. Brokeback it up for your birthday, baby."
- Japanese food and the missing server.
- Bar Louie and how somebody thought his move was to let that hobag walk in front of him and steal the table that should have rightfully been ours.
- BIG TIME
- "Did you know that your mother was in Guadalajara?"
- MORE BIG TIME
- "I'm so glad that cell phones were invented so that, while we're all here spending time together, you all can be texting other people who are NOT here."
- "Let's make some MySpace magic tonight."
- "Counting every blade of grass, taking a stand, starting a revolution."
- FANTASTIC cocktails at the Shady Grove
- Making ourselves sick with more food and booze at Gullifty's. I mean, like, SICK.
- Larry wishing Ferris a happy birthday by telling him about his sweaty ass
- My mom's cooking, including her attempt to lame out on stuffed mushrooms by microwaving them, to which we responded, "That's bullshit. Turn the oven on."
- My mom's face when the question "Did you know that your mom is in Guadalajara?" was asked.
- BIG TIME and BIG JIM
- Snowballing. Don't even bother asking.
- Jukeboxes
- "Everything is definitely cool."

I love you mom, Pookie, Ferris, Dana, Candy, Larry, Jai. Thank you for such a wonderful set of perfect moments. You can see all of the pictures here, but here are my favorites for reference.


Don't you wish you could rock to ANY music? Even the servers singing at Yokoso?


Dinner. Good Times.


Much like The Jackal, where there is bottled beer, The Unicorn will appear.


My favorite photo with C-Woo.


Sibling self portrait.

 

I Haven't Got the Energy for Anything Other Than a Random Five

1. Actual Dialogue from This Weekend

My Date's Friend to Me
You're beautiful, smart and engaging. Tht already puts you ahead of most of the population.

My Date
Well, it for sure puts her ahead of most of the Vegas population.

Me
Wrong answer, hombre.

2. 90210 Season Two, Episode 1: This is the episode where Brenda thinks that she's pregnant and then breaks up with Dillon and Luke Perry ACTS THE SHIT OUT OF PAINED DILLON. He feels dead, ya'll. I actually went back and watched certain scenes a second time after the first time through. God, it's good times starting all over again. And people, this is the "summer" season where Brandon gets a job as a cabana boy. I'm giddy with anticipation.

3. Pennsylvania! So I'll be there all weekend. I'm excited. Tyler and Cienna time (and Candy and Larry time, too!). Food. Mom time. Food. Ferris time. Food. Pookie time. Food. Joshua time. Food. Except let's me honest, not so much with the food. I've lost so much weight since I've been sick that people are actually noticing. I'm not a big girl to begin with, so when you lose enough weight that people have noticed, it's time to explore finding ways to put it back on.

4. A Strange Irony: I'm finding it amusing how many of my friends who are all "I HATE THOMAS FRIEDMAN" are also strong Barack supporters. I finished the book this weekend, and I have to tell you, his foreign policy beliefs are pretty similar to Friedman's. Different because Obama grew up in some third-world-being-industrialized nations, so he's got more first-hand experience with the negatives of American foreign policy. But still. Not so much difference there.

5. Thank You Universe: For the crazy, perfect weekend you handed over. It's like I no longer get to roll out my complaint blanket about age inappropriate men or the universe not trying to help me with my goals. Let's have another week like that.

 

It Was Entertaining in a Very Specific Way

For a pretty much unedited look at Pookie's birthday weekend, you can hit up Flickr and check the set. But I'm giving you my five favorite photos below!


The now traditional event photo with "Fran," if that is in fact his real name.


Really, this photo tells you everything you need to know about mine and Pookie's relationship.


There is only one word for this photo. And that word is "M.A.N.L.Y"


Joey V is like an arrow in motion to the speakeasy.


We call this our "sitcom" photo, because it's the kind of photo that happens at the end of the intro credits to any sitcom with an ensemble cast...you know, how at the end of the credits the cast of friends or family all tumbles gleefully onto a couch where they smile about their wacky lives that always end perfectly happily? That's this photo.