Weekend on the Westside

My eventful 60 hour work week came and went. All of the sudden the weekend had passed and it was Sunday morning. Kristin’s birthday party had been a relative success, considering the alcohol-induced impromptu game of strip poker was uneventful yet still entertaining (as no one actually removed any articles of clothing) and the drunken arguments were kept to a minimum. Almost no one ate the overpriced cupcakes I bought, but someone did manage to drink my personal pint of Pendleton (that I apparently did a horrible job of hiding from the other party guests). Therefore, my enthusiasm for drinking had been reduced to non-existent before 7:00 pm, but I did a marvelous job pretending my keg cup of water was champagne. I was the first to wake up in the morning- ready for my chicken fried steak and looking forward to the drive home.



Kristin’s bedroom looked like a bomb went off; leggings, shirts, bras, make up all scattered about her floor and furniture...and oddly enough a unopened pack of cigarettes and a Smirnoff ICE sitting on her nightstand (although the Smirnoff is not in my realm of choice for alcohol- this group doesn’t normally waste a pack of Camels or booze for that matter). Everyone began peeling themselves off couches and floors and began sifting through the wreckage for their personal belongings- most likely ending up with something that doesn't belong to them. Because no one ever ends up with all their stuff and almost always ends up with the stuff of someone else’s.


Actually finding a breakfast establishment suitable for Princess Kristin proved to be a much less problematic than I had anticipated. With the handy work of an iphone and only one u-turn, our caravan of vehicles made it to a pretty decent spot that ended up having ginormous portions of food and a questionably young, primarily female, wait staff. All in all- I think the number of people offended by our obnoxious bunch was quite minimal considering the usual shenanigans involved with our after-partying meal. The mood was slightly tainted by some unusual sexual tension between a few group members and a hint of lingering frustration between a few of us who were involved in the “minimal drunk arguments” that had taken place the night before.


Thankfully my good friend Mindy has even less of a tolerance for hung-over hangouts when you’re out of town than I do, so we blew that Popsicle stand as soon as breakfast was over. DJ Mindy set the mood as we zig- zagged through 1-90 traffic listening to everything from 90’s rap to classic rock… we talked about the weekend and what we had planned for the rest of the day, and despite the combination of her hostility and (getting less and less believable) apathy, I think it was safe to assume that she was thinking about the person she keeps swearing she never thinks about- and I was doing the same thing.