--Went to go see an 8pm showing of Spanglish with Beth. It was quite good, though now I'm in love with Paz Vega. Could NOT stop staring at her perfect, perfect breasts. Yes, I have a problem.
--After Spanglish, we went back to Beth's house and got in touch with her friend Mike, who drove over from Centreville. The three of us got in his car and headed to this nifty bar in Rosslyn--The Continental, I think it was called--that had purple pool tables and a sparkly bar and shit. A chick bar, but pretty nice. We put five bucks in the juke box so we could play 18 songs. Beth made me get a beer so I could get used to the taste, but I still didn't quite finish it-- because, oh yeah, beer tastes like ass (for the curious: I got a Heinekin, though I also sipped off her and Mike's beers and they ALL TASTED THE SAME). So then I got a white russian and that was quite a significant improvment.
--We'd anticipated being too drunk (well, not drunk so much as tipsy; I still have a personal No Drunk policy) to get home without a cab, but we were all still stone-cold sober, so we drove back to Beth's house, grabbed her dad's digital camera, got in her car, and drove to the Iwo Jima Memorial. It was BEAUTIFUL at night. Wandered around there until we froze our asses off. By this time, it was about 2:30am.
--Back in Beth's car. We went to a little mom and pop, 24 hour diner, where I had a BLT and a root beer float, and Beth and I made fun of this ridiculous woman who had all the qualities of "stupid wannabe whore" you could ever desire: trashy white jacket with that awful ragged, stringy faux fur lining, layers and layers of makeup (including green and gold eyeshadow I could see from across the room), a camera phone, blonde hair, blank eyes, and a total inability to talk to her attractive-but-clearly-tolerating-her-only-to-get-laid gentleman friend without a series of emphatic, limp-wristed gesticulations. We also shamelessly listened to this old woman who HAD to be schizophrenic having a conversation with herself in the booth next to us. I swear to god, she talked to herself from the time we got there until the time we left--30 minutes or so? It was freaky shit, man.
--Back in the car. Beth wanted to drive on the GW Parkway, because it's beautiful, but I was tired and so she took me home. We were almost there when Mom called wanting to know where I was, because she hadn't heard from me since before we left for Iwo Jima, and she'd been expecting me... apparently she'd called my cell, but I hadn't heard it, so she REALLY started worrying when I didn't answer. Luckily, she had Beth's cell and called that. I apologized and told her I was almost home; when I got in, I explained that I thought she'd just gone back to sleep after we'd last spoken, and I hadn't called because I figured I'd had another hour or so to get in. She wasn't mad or anything, just worried when I hadn't answered my phone. She said she was glad I'd had a good time, and isn't D.C. pretty, and sweet dreams and have a goodnight. This is because I'm a goody-goody at heart, and call the house constantly; my folks know I don't put crazy shit in my body, or hang out with strange people, or go weird places, or generally do Bad Things That Could Get Me Jailed, Maimed, or Killed (tm). So if there's a misunderstanding, it gets cleared up and all is right with the world. I just hate that she worried.
Still. Score for being responsible.
And now I'm tired, and my brother and I are going to the Air and Space Museum later today because we didn't go yesterday like we'd originally planned. We're going to do the flight simulators, and it's gonna be keen, keen, keen.
Back to school on Sunday. Cannot wait.
--After Spanglish, we went back to Beth's house and got in touch with her friend Mike, who drove over from Centreville. The three of us got in his car and headed to this nifty bar in Rosslyn--The Continental, I think it was called--that had purple pool tables and a sparkly bar and shit. A chick bar, but pretty nice. We put five bucks in the juke box so we could play 18 songs. Beth made me get a beer so I could get used to the taste, but I still didn't quite finish it-- because, oh yeah, beer tastes like ass (for the curious: I got a Heinekin, though I also sipped off her and Mike's beers and they ALL TASTED THE SAME). So then I got a white russian and that was quite a significant improvment.
--We'd anticipated being too drunk (well, not drunk so much as tipsy; I still have a personal No Drunk policy) to get home without a cab, but we were all still stone-cold sober, so we drove back to Beth's house, grabbed her dad's digital camera, got in her car, and drove to the Iwo Jima Memorial. It was BEAUTIFUL at night. Wandered around there until we froze our asses off. By this time, it was about 2:30am.
--Back in Beth's car. We went to a little mom and pop, 24 hour diner, where I had a BLT and a root beer float, and Beth and I made fun of this ridiculous woman who had all the qualities of "stupid wannabe whore" you could ever desire: trashy white jacket with that awful ragged, stringy faux fur lining, layers and layers of makeup (including green and gold eyeshadow I could see from across the room), a camera phone, blonde hair, blank eyes, and a total inability to talk to her attractive-but-clearly-tolerating-her-only-to-get-laid gentleman friend without a series of emphatic, limp-wristed gesticulations. We also shamelessly listened to this old woman who HAD to be schizophrenic having a conversation with herself in the booth next to us. I swear to god, she talked to herself from the time we got there until the time we left--30 minutes or so? It was freaky shit, man.
--Back in the car. Beth wanted to drive on the GW Parkway, because it's beautiful, but I was tired and so she took me home. We were almost there when Mom called wanting to know where I was, because she hadn't heard from me since before we left for Iwo Jima, and she'd been expecting me... apparently she'd called my cell, but I hadn't heard it, so she REALLY started worrying when I didn't answer. Luckily, she had Beth's cell and called that. I apologized and told her I was almost home; when I got in, I explained that I thought she'd just gone back to sleep after we'd last spoken, and I hadn't called because I figured I'd had another hour or so to get in. She wasn't mad or anything, just worried when I hadn't answered my phone. She said she was glad I'd had a good time, and isn't D.C. pretty, and sweet dreams and have a goodnight. This is because I'm a goody-goody at heart, and call the house constantly; my folks know I don't put crazy shit in my body, or hang out with strange people, or go weird places, or generally do Bad Things That Could Get Me Jailed, Maimed, or Killed (tm). So if there's a misunderstanding, it gets cleared up and all is right with the world. I just hate that she worried.
Still. Score for being responsible.
And now I'm tired, and my brother and I are going to the Air and Space Museum later today because we didn't go yesterday like we'd originally planned. We're going to do the flight simulators, and it's gonna be keen, keen, keen.
Back to school on Sunday. Cannot wait.
padme:
Thats quite a day, and you should be proud of yourself for being so responsible ;o).