200 posts later...

... and I'm still alive and kicking. Sort of. Can we all just pretend this isn't my 200th post? Not that I'm any good at celebrating these sorts of things, in blogger world or the real world. If it weren't for Twin, I would never remember anyone's birthday, and forget about anniversaries. You're on your own with those.

And while I'm on the topic of birthdays, one of the cutest little boys in the whole entire world just had his first birthday. Yup, that's right, little Benny Bugger just turned one. Happy Birthday, Benny Bugger. Sorry I couldn't be there for the festivities.

He likes cake.

And check out the sweet cakes my sister made for Benny Bugger. (One was for his real birthday, and the other was for his birthday party with friends and family. My sister is one of those moms who wouldn't let her sons have cake until their first birthday. Don't judge her. I think it's cute.)

The concept was good, but the execution could have been cleaner.

Coolest cake ever.

I'm sure my sis would want you to know that the first cake was designed by big bro', Owen, who's 3. I think he was in charge of the sprinkles. I'm extremely impressed by the second cake, which I heard only took a mere 4 hours to make. And here I thought she lacked cake making talent. Or maybe she just told me that so I would make her cakes for her. Guess who'll be making her own cakes from now on?

In other birthday news, the G-Man had his birthday this past weekend. He decided a night in Alexandria with a bunch of friends was the way to celebrate. So a bunch of us got a few hotel rooms in Alexandria on Friday night, and we all got gloriously wasted. Or maybe that was just me. But check out the sweet room. I love the picture above the bed. Much better than your typical hotel art.

I totally dive-bombed this bed. Multiple times.
And then I had to stop because I hurt myself.

In related news. You know how I'm super coordinated and totally classy? Of course you do. Well, remember how I had that gnarly toe injury not that long ago? Well guess what? I did it again. Yup. I stubbed my toe up pretty good Friday night, and if it weren't for that previous toe injury, which happened in the safety of a bedroom, while I was sober, I would totally blame the alcohol and the uneven sidewalks of Alexandria. But, also seeing as I had tripped on the uneven bricks earlier in the evening, before any alcohol was consumed, well, I don't think I can blame the alcohol. But maybe I can blame the sidewalks. Or maybe not. I am, after all, the kind of person who takes one thing off of a shelf in the closet and then has eight other things come crashing down on my head. Or the kind of person whose ten lb. purse falls on my head while using the restroom in Target (don't ask).

And since I am in a sharing kind of mood, I have a picture to share with you.

WARNING: PLEASE AVERT YOUR EYES IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH AND/OR CAN'T TOLERATE PICTURES THAT SHOW:

a) TOES
b) GENERAL GROSSNESS
c) TOENAILS IN DESPERATE NEED OF A NEW PAINT JOB or
d) ALL OF THE ABOVE

YOU'VE BEEN WARNED. SERIOUSLY, LOOK AWAY. DON'T GO ANY FURTHER. I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR LOST LUNCHES.

In all its glory, I present to you, my new toe injury...

 

You can click on it to enlarge it. You know you want to.

You may be thinking to yourself, "Wait, haven't we seen this toe injury before?" Well, no, you haven't, but you have seen this toe injured before. And it is quite similar to the last injury, but it is, in fact, a brand new injury. And because I'm in such a good mood today and don't want to make you work too hard (it is Monday, after all), here's a pic of the last toe injury for comparison.

And because you're not grossed out enough (Wait, is there anyone left reading this?), I must add that the new toe injury had two skin flaps that needed to be removed as well as some gravel, some mashed up toenail, and a fuzzy. And there was blood. Lots of blood.

And my birthday gift to the G-Man? He got to clean my toe up on Friday. And then I let him pick gravel out of it with tweezers. Hey, after last year's present, a lousy flying lesson, in a real plane and everything, I knew I had to step it up this year (hee hee. Get it? Step it up? Well, I thought it was funny). And really, what man wouldn't prefer bloody appendages over a flying lesson?

And for the few of you who made it through this travesty I call my 200th post... thanks. Here's hoping I have enough shit to talk about for another 200 posts.

Previously on OBG... 1.4

(the following should be read like... well, however you feel like reading it. You're all adults. Use your imagination.)

Although inspired in part by a true incident, 

the following story is fictional 

and does not depict any actual person or event.
        

When we last left OBG...

         

...she had just moved to Northern Virginia (again) and was trying to adjust to life in an unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar things (again). She was suffering from severe self-doubt about her recent decisions and was feeling totally bummed out. Dude. 

      

We now join OBG on Saturday evening, July 3rd, in Bilboa Baggins, a restaurant/bar in Old Town Alexandria, where she is having dinner with Gregarious, Thing Two, and SarahCC. They were seated at their table ten minutes earlier and have yet to be served. Gregarious and Thing Two have their phones out. Again.

OBG (directed at the table): What are you all getting?

Gregarious (typing away and not looking up from the phone): Huh?
Thing Two (typing away and not looking up from the phone): What?
SarahCC: I haven't decided yet. Every time I think I know what I"m getting, I look at the menu again and change my mind.
OBG: Yeah, me too. The pizza looks really good, but I'm afraid if I don't get something more substantial I'm just going to be hungry in a couple of hours again.
Thing Two (glancing up from phone): Shouldn't we have been served by now? (briefly looks around but soon returns to phone)
Gregarious (looking up from phone): Yeah, at least take our beer order. I want a beer. (briefly looks around but is soon back to the phone)
In-Head OBG: Whoa. I can't believe how rude they're being. I can't believe Thing Two invited SarahCC to join us and is spending the whole time on his phone. I don't even know her. I feel bad for her. Looks like I'm going to have to make conversation with her, which is fine, but I still can't get over the fact that she had to introduce herself to us in the car and now we're left to our own devices on the conversation.
OBG (to SarahCC): So you live in Crystal City, huh? How do you like it?
SarahCC: Well, it's nice, but I really want to move into DC because that's where all my friends live and right now it's a hassle to go out with them because it takes me so much longer on the Metro to get to them. But it's cool. Not like Clarendon, which is totally yuppy.
In-Head OBG: Fuck. That's where Gregarious wants to live. I DO NOT want to live in yuppy-town. This is NOT what I signed up for. Where do all the creative people like me live? I was totally promised Alexandria when I moved down here. This is such a bait-and-switch scam.
Thing Two (briefly looking up from phone): That's where these two want to move too.
In-Head OBG: Say what now? Uh-uh. Oh, this is not going to go well for me. I miss NY.
Gregarious (still thumbing away on the phone): Huh? Oh, yeah, Clarendon. Yeah, it seems like a nice place to live. Either that or the Fairfax/Vienna area. As long as it's still on the Metro line and not too far for me to drive to work if I end up working in Ashburn.
In-Head OBG: Oh, fuck no! I was promised Alexandria or DC. I'm having really, really bad feelings about this. Where is our server? I need a beer, ASAP.

After an adventurous evening spent wandering under the Woodrow Wilson bridge, trying to catch a glimpse of the fireworks that Gregarious assured the rest of the party were occurring (which you will hear about at a later time), and after a repeat of pretty much the same scenario played out above, except at the Columbia Firehouse, we now join OBG on the 4th of July doing something she swore to herself last 4th of July she would never do again- attend a BBQ further south down I-95 in Fredericksburg, VA. She is now on her second beer, sitting with Night Ranger, watching a riveting game of cornhole.

In-Head OBG: I can't believe I'm missing out on fireworks in DC to attend a frickin' pool party with Gregarious' hockey team. This is lame. Where is he any way? I hate the 4th of July. All I care about are the fireworks. That's all the 4th of July is good for. Why did I let Gregarious talk me into this? I should have gone on my own and met Thing Two in DC for fireworks. I don't even know anyone here. Well, except for Night Ranger. And House, but trying to talk to them is weird. Stupid Virginia...

[pop.]

In-Head OBG (looking around): What was that?
OBG (to Night Ranger): What was that?
Night Ranger: Huh? I didn't hear anything.

[pop. pop.] 

In-Head OBG (looking around): There it was again. That sounded like... fireworks.

[pop. pop. pop. pffffffzzzzzzz.] 

In-Head OBG (bolting out of her chair, frantically looking around): It was. I'd recognize that sound anywhere. It... was...
OBG (shouting at the top of her lungs): FIREWORKS!!!
Night Ranger (visibly startled): What the...
OBG: It's... FIREWORKS!!! (looking around frantically) WHERE ARE THEY? (looks right) WHERE ARE THEY? (looks left) I KNOW I HEARD THEM. FIREWORKS! FIREWORKS! FIREWORKS! Wait... (tilts head and listens)

[pop. pop. poppity-pop. pffffffzzzzzzz.] 

OBG: OH MY GOD, FIREWORKS!!! THEY'RE COMING FROM THE FRONT OF THE HOUSE! LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT! (knocks over old folks and children on a mad pursuit to the front of the house) FIREWORKS!!! (arrives at front of house)

[silence]

In-Head OBG (desperately looking around in confusion): What? Where are they? I know I heard them...

[pop. pop.]

In-Head OBG (jerks head around): There they are again. Where are they coming from?

[pop.  pffffffzzzzzzz.]

OBG: OH MY GOD, FIREWORKS!!! THEY'RE COMING FROM THE BACK OF THE HOUSE! LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT! (pushes crippled man into pool on the way to the back of the house. steps on fat, old dog's tail)

[yelp]

OBG: GET OUT OF MY WAY, STUPID MUTT, IT'S... FIREWORKS!!!

[pop. pop. poppity-pop. pffffffzzzzzzz.] 

OBG: FIREWORKS!!! BRIGHT, SPARKLY, COLORFUL... FIREWORKS!!! (arrives at back of house)

[silence]

In-Head OBG (desperately looking around in confusion): What? Where are they? I know I heard them...

[pop. pop. pop. bang.] 

In-Head OBG (jerks head around): There they are again. Where the fuck are they coming from? I must see the fireworks!

[pop. pop. poppity-pop. pffffffzzzzzzz.] 

OBG (short of breath, foaming at the mouth, leering at the party guests): WHERE... ARE... THEY? I MUST... HAVE... MY... FIREWORKS!!! (runs back and forth across the back yard, over to the side yard, back to the front yard, into the house for a potty break, back to the back yard, up to the front yard where she discovers the party has relocated)
Gregarious (to OBG): Look, The Hosts are going to set off fireworks.
OBG (stops short): What? (looks around in an obvious state of confusion)
Gregarious (pointing at the hosts who are carrying brown paper bags): Look. They have fireworks. They're going to start lighting them off. And they have sparklers too.
OBG (wiping foam from chin): Whowhatnow?
Gregarious (with an exasperated sigh): Fireworks. They. Are. Lighting. Fireworks. See? You'll get to see some after all.
In-Head OBG (looking around at crowd, watching The Hosts light bottle rockets): But...

[high pitched whistle. pop.]

[crowd cheers.]

OBG (shaking head and scoffing): Man, some people get all worked up over some of the littlest things, huh? I just don't get. I'm gonna go get another beer.

Next time on OBG...

... did OBG ever get to see real fireworks? (Editor's note: Uh... no. But she was promised them next year. For real. The promise was sealed with blood. So it has to happen.) Did OBG ever pick up her new glasses? (Editor's Note: She did) Will OBG finally be happy with her new glasses? (Editor's Note: Uh... yeah! They totally rock!) Will OBG ever return to regular blogging? Has OBG lost her creativity for good? How did OBG end up under the Woodrow Wilson bridge? And how are Loki and Mrs. Lovett doing? And what possessed OBG to paint her toenails white? And what in the name of the sanity  of all who know OBG happened to all the Midol/Pamprin products of the world? Is it some sort of conspiracy?

Stay tuned for the next episode of OBG, where all of these questions will be answered. Or none of them. It could go either way. But hopefully it will be more exciting than this episode. One can only dream.

Editor's Note: No animals, old people, children or cripples were hurt in the making of this episode of OBG. Gregarious, however, got run over by a shopping cart in the middle of a Bloom grocery store. Minor injuries were sustained and lessons were, most likely, still not learned.

PLEASE NOTE: The Blogger commenting snafu appears to be resolved.

Mountain Girl, meet City Girl

"Well, I guess you're the city girl."

Or so says my mom, the last time I spoke to her.

I guess she's right.

I couldn't imagine returning to my hometown for any extensive length of time. A weekend is fine, a night is better, but anything more than that is just unbearable.

I grew up in a small town in the Adirondacks in Northern NY. As in, two hours north of Albany (yes, NY State continues beyond Albany, and I'm not talking about Buffalo either). I suppose it could have been worse. I mean, if we're talking crime, well, crime was pretty much non-existent in my hometown. A picturesque town boasting a population of 1,250 (2008), my hometown is one of the most serene and non-threatening places you could raise a family. Of course, it's also one of the most boring, uneventful and seriously lacking in opportunity towns to grow up in. It's no surprise that very few young residents stick around after graduation. In fact, as soon as I graduated, I cut out of there as fast as I could.

 My hometown. Yes, this is actually a picture of the town I grew up in. Believe it or not. 

In case you're wondering, my homes (yes, plural) were miles away from here. In the mountains.

Ever since I left, I've been trying to find my place in the world. So far, that journey has taken me to five different regions in NY state. It seems the closer I get to large, metropolitan areas, the happier I am. Despite my introverted tendencies. I'm pretty positive I was born to be a city girl. I blame the ADD in me. I crave activity and nightlife and excitement and chaos and attention and sushi at 10 pm and pizza at 3 am. I want it all. I need it all. That wasn't always the case, however.

I am a born-and-raised, true-blue, mountain girl. I spent my summers barefoot. I swam in mountain lakes and rode four-wheelers down mountain roads. I picked blackberries with my sisters, while keeping an eye out for bears. I can drive a stick-shift, and I know how to drive in the snow, ice and rain. I know what it's like to have to hike up the driveway because it's too muddy/icy to drive up. I've seen deer gutted, skinned and hanging from the rafters of a garage. I know what poutine, Red Hots and Michigans are and I know where to get the best of both.

The house my dad built. Literally. I lived here for a majority of the first 15 years of my life. 
My dad used to own over 100 acres of the surrounding forests.

I've partied in the woods, around a bonfire, with mosquitoes nipping at my ankles. I've partied on the Lake while middle-aged women parade around in their obscenely small bikinis. I've partied in run-down bars in the middle of nowhere featuring strippers who were missing their teeth (a story for another day). I've partied in bars with rednecks, hicks and townies. I've partied at pig roasts. I've partied in fields with guitar-playing, bongo-pounding hippies. I've partied with the band. I've partied with the cooks. I partied on the Swastika (there's a story behind this). I've partied in the snow, the rain, the sun, the sleet and the mud. I've partied in tents, in trailers, in trucks and in back-woods camps. Oh yes, I have partied in the mountains.

In the mountains, function comes before fashion. In the mountains, sometimes you have to bathe in the lake when your well has dried up during a particularly dry summer. In the mountains, you know how to live with no power for a week when there's an ice storm. In the mountains, you can't get cable, high-speed internet or cell phone coverage. In the mountains, your neighborhood is the woods.

Growing up, my sisters and I spent hours playing in the woods. I loved the smell of the woods, and I loved to wander through them and imagine that I was in some other country or fantasy land. The woods were my refuge when I was sad, angry or lonely. Being so surrounded by nature was calming and peaceful. Of course, it was also very isolating and restricting.

 The areas of NYS that I've lived in. See how I've been making my way down the state? 
Obviously the city has been calling to me for years and drawing me closer and closer.

I fell in love with big cities after my first trip to NYC. It only took two more trips to NYC and a trip to Philadelphia to solidify my desire to live in a metropolitan area. In a couple of days I'll be moving to the outskirts of DC. While in my heart I will always be a mountain girl, I'm super excited to become a city girl. I can't wait to explore the DC area and discover new things. And hopefully find a job along the way as well. Call me crazy, but I love the idea of walking everywhere and riding public transportation (I'm sure that novelty will wear off pretty quickly).

Over the past eight or nine months, I have made several trips to NOVA and the DC area, and I'm psyched to become a part of the city lifestyle. While I have some reservations about my move, these reservations are limited to the personal aspects of my life. I have no reservations about living in NOVA/DC. The food, the nightlife, the hustle and bustle and excitement of it all (and hopefully better job prospects)... I can't wait!

Me, in the mountains. Some of you might remember this picture from my first ever blog header. 
Or was it my second?

Of course, my change in lifestyle will inevitably affect my blog. While I hope to maintain a constant presence in the blogging community, I can't guarantee that I will be able to follow through with that. That being said, here's what I anticipate for my blog down the road:

• I hope to make "Previously on the OBG" a regular feature on Mondays, but those posts are a lot of work and not always worth it, but I anticipate my weekends to be more fun and exciting, so I'll probably have more to write about. Eh, let's see how this one goes.
• Random Shit Tuesday will stay. I always have random shit to say.
• I expect to dedicate my infrequent weekend posts to the shit that I like. For example, my I ♥ Etsy posts and other things that are more for me as a way to document me and my style preferences. No one reads blogs on the weekends anyways, right?
• As for the rest of the week, I expect to still bring you the intelligent, insightful, clever writing that I've been bringing to you all along. Wait, what? Yeah, you heard me. I'm insightful, intelligent and clever. And you will be hearing from me. I just can't guarantee it will be every day. Like I said, we'll see how it goes.

I'm sure I'll have lots of tales to tell and experiences to report upon. Maybe I'll find myself a job and regale you all with work-related posts. Or maybe I'll make tons of new friends and share my wild times with you. Or maybe I'll just bitch about the horrors of moving and starting over. Or maybe I'll become one of those bloggers who talks about my personal relationships. No I won't. Don't worry, I'll never be that person (not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just not for me). 

In the meantime, if anyone has any NOVA/DC advice or suggestions, I would love to hear them. I'm talking about good places to live. Good places to eat. Good places to go on the weekends. Good places to shop. How to survive the Metro. And so on and so on.

I hope I'm making the right decision with this move. This Mountain Girl is about to become a City Girl. Wish me luck!

Previously on OBG... The Pilot

(for those of you a little slow on the uptake, the following should be read with Dallas-esque levels of drama and theatrics) 

Although inspired in part by a true incident, 

the following story is fictional 

and does not depict any actual person or event.*

When we last left OBG... 

...she was wallowing deep in the self-pitying depths of the deadly Swamps of Sadness, discouraged by the lack of job prospects and by life in general. Landlord Dude had just confirmed with OBG that he had, in fact, already rented her room out for July and that she would, in fact, be without a home in less than a month. OBG, dismayed by her future, or lack-thereof, was quickly drinking her way through a case of Magic Hat, suffering from a bout of insomnia, and wondering how, OH DEAR GOD, HOW would she make it to her eye appointment on time?

We now join OBG at her eye appointment, which, with the help of her iHome and the wonders of Google Maps, she made it to on time...

Doctor (scribbling on his notepad): Well, it seems your left eye is weaker than your right...and you seem to be slow to focus...

OBG: Okay...
Doctor (looking up from clipboard): It appears... you have... (dramatic pause)... astigmatism.
OBG (wringing hands): But what does it all mean, doctor?
Doctor: Basically, it means that your eyeballs are football shaped when they should be baseball shaped.
OBG: Oh. But, I don't even like sports. Doctor, (dramatically drapes hand across forehead) is it... curable, doctor?
Doctor: I'm writing you a prescription that should help and give you better than 20/20 vision.
OBG: Oh. But, doctor, what about driving at night? I'm practically BLIND at night. (throws self dramatically across the chair) Whatever can be done?
Doctor: Well, this prescription should help with that.
OBG: Oh.
Doctor (all serious and shit): But I must warn you, you should probably... avoid driving at night.
OBG (gasps): But... I'm...  a night owl! Nooooooo......

After surviving the trauma of the eye doctor and his evil tools of torture that puff air into your unsuspecting eyes, OBG began her weekend adventures with a trip through the evil state that is... New Jersey...

OBG (all sweaty and disheveled from spending five hours stuck in Jersey traffic): DAMN YOU, JERSEY! DAMN YOU! Now I'll never make it to Happy Hour on time!

After her harrowing trip through Jersey and, subsequently, Delaware, the OBG finally arrived at her destination, the dreaded NOVA, where she had plans to attend a wine festival the following day. We now join her at said wine festival...

OBG (dramatically dragging herself across the field towards the crowded ice cream stand): I must... have... ice cream...
The G-Man (heroically picking OBG up off the ground): You can't handle the ice cream! Don't you know?!? It's made with... eggs!
OBG (throwing hand across forehead): {Gasp} No! Not all of it! Soft serve isn't! I'm sure of it! And... (alternates hand dramatically thrown across forehead)... I'm... PMS-ing! And... (alternates hand dramatically thrown across forehead)... it's soooo hot here! We don't have these levels of humidity in New York (dramatically relaxes body and collapses into the G-Man's arms) I... want... ice cream... now...
The G-Man (desperately shaking OBG by the shoulders): Get a hold of yourself, woman! Look at that line! That's a 30 minute wait... at best! And with these temperatures, and with your white, white skin... (shakes head)... well, I can only imagine...
OBG (whimpering): But... but... I want it...
The G-Man: What if we get another bottle of wine?
OBG (dramatically standing): {sigh} Okay. (thinking to self) But I'm on to you. Oh yes, I am. You may have won this time, with your distracting, tempting offer of sweet, sweet wine, but I will get my ice cream. Oh yes, I will.

Next time on OBG...

... will OBG ever get her ice cream? (Editor's Note: OBG never got her ice cream, but she did get two more bottles of wine and pizza.) How did OBG end up in DC at 1905 eating ravioli that she didn't even want? And why were there peas involved? Are they following her? Will OBG ever learn her lesson? Will OBG ever stop wearing white skirts to parties in fields? Will OBG survive her drive back through New Jersey? Will she ever find employment? Will OBG take the G-Man up on his offer and move to NOVA? Or will her Prince Charming finally rescue her from the Swamps of Sadness and whisk her off to Never, Never Land where she will never have to grow up?** And whatever did happen to that earring? And furthermore, did anyone know that Courteney Cox was in Masters of the Universe?

Stay tuned for the next episode of OBG, where all of these questions will be answered. Or none of them. It could go either way.

* In other words, I embellished a little. But only a little. Real life is boring and less dramatic. But not much.

** Yeah, I know. I'm mixing fantasies and fictional characters here, but it's my story, dammit, and if I want Prince Charming to take me to Never, Never Land on the wings of Falkor, so be it. Thank you very much.

I think I lost an earring too

You know those days where you start out in a field, listening to music, drinking wine with one group of people, in one corner of the world, and you end the day in a completely different city, in a completely different outfit, with a completely different group of people, and as you're eating your overpriced ravioli in a restaurant where your new group apparently knows the owner, who is also, apparently, one of the people in the new group, you stop for a moment and think,

"How did this happen?"

Yeah, well, that was my Saturday. Hope the weekend is treating all of you just as well.

How I Lost the Tip of My Toe -or- My Weekend Roundup

                                          
The title of this post is a tad misleading. I don't mean that I didn't (almost) lose the tip of my toe, and I don't mean that this isn't about my weekend, but I mean that my weekend wasn't nearly as exciting as I'd like you to believe it was based on the fact that I (almost) lost the tip of my toe. In fact, compared to how my weekends typically go, this past one was uneventful, pretty blah, and really quite mellow.

So mellow, in fact, that I'm actually going to be able to tell you about it without the fear of revealing to you a side of myself that few are privy to.

First off, my drive on Thursday wasn't nearly as bad as I anticipated. In fact, Unfortunate One* and I had so much catching up to do that it was the fastest 6 1/2-hour road trip ever (A road trip that usually takes me 5-6 hours. Incidentally, Unfortunate One drives like an old lady. Who knew?). It's been awhile since I've been able to have a real, intelligent convo with anyone (you'd be surprised, but Co-Worker and Boss Lady aren't the brightest bulbs in the box). We talked politics and other issues of the current affairs variety. We gossiped a bit too (contrary to popular belief, men are the worst gossipers). I won't bore you with the details.

We met up with Gregarious, who we were visiting for the weekend, at his humble abode. We eventually made it to Murphy's Irish Pub in Old Town Alexandria. I've been there before, and while the atmosphere was enjoyable, the service has a tendency to suck and the food was merely mediocre. The beer, however, was good. Beer usually is.

WHAT I ATE/DRANK:
* Hot Roast Beef
- Served open-face on white bread topped with Gravy, Mashed Potatoes and Vegetables on the side
* Beer. More specifically, Yuengling
MY THOUGHTS:
It was kind of tasty... and kind of cold. The mashed potatoes were, eh. The vegetables were your standard previously frozen, re-heated variety.
WOULD I ORDER IT AGAIN:
Probably not. Unless I was really drunk. Anything can happen, right?

   
    
Friday afternoon we sat around in a circle (triangle?), outside in the bright Virginia sun, eating Cheetos, drinking, reminiscing** and talking about the days we used to sit around in a circle, eating Cheetos, drinking and partaking in certain activities. I may or may not have drunk a nearly full bottle of wine on my own. I may or may not have briefly blinded a cat when I (accidentally) poured wine into the kitty's eyes***. We then proceeded to try grilling steak during a hail storm. Well, Gregarious tried. Unfortunate One and I just sat inside and watched.

At some point we ventured into DC to visit Thing 2. It was a fun and exciting evening that involved sitting on Thing 2's roof deck and drinking beer. Good times. Fun fact: Did you know it was National Police Week in DC this past weekend? Yeah, we didn't either. We made this discovery while riding the last train on the Yellow line when a (very drunk) copper from North Carolina got on, in full kilt ensemble, and proceeded to serenade us with his bagpipes+ (can you serenade with bag pipes?). Good times.

(Source)

Not our bagpiper, but you get the idea, right? Man, I have got to start bringing my camera with me on my adventures.

We had originally planned to venture into DC again Saturday morning to meet up with Thing 2 for brunch. This did not happen. Most likely due to the fact that our Metro adventures had us arriving back at Gregarious' at about 5:00am. Instead, we met up with Thing 2 around 2-3:00pm for a late lunch at the Thai food restaurant, Kanlaya. I really like Thai food, however, I have a hard time finding anything I can eat since they like to put egg in everything.

WHAT I ATE/DRANK:
19. THAI SPRING ROLLS (shared)
- A combination of cellophane noodles, cabbage, carrot, and dried mushrooms served with chef's special sauce
21. SIAM DUMPLINGS (shared)
- Steamed dumplings stuffed with a mixture of shrimp, crab meat, pork and mushroom served with a deliciously sweet Thai soy sauce
81. PAD KING TOFU
- Fried tofu sautéed with fresh ginger, onions and fresh mushrooms in bean sauce
ICED TEA
MY THOUGHTS:
19. Good. Typical of spring rolls. Nothing special.
21. Eh. Not really a fan. Can't say I enjoyed the crazy meat combo, but everyone else really liked them.
81. After re-reading the description, I'm pretty sure that while this is what I ordered, this is not what I actually ate (as I suspected at the time). What I ate had green beans and red peppers. And no onions, mushrooms, ginger or bean sauce. That being said, whatever it was that I did eat, it was very good.
WOULD I ORDER IT AGAIN:
Sure. If I knew what it was I was ordering. I suspect it was this:
82. PAD PIK KING TOFU
- Fried tofu sautéed with PIK KING Sauce and fresh string beans

   
     
Afterward, we took a nice little stroll to the Jefferson Memorial. You know, just for fun. The men decided we needed to take a cab back to Thing 2's place, so we did, where we proceeded to drink some beers on the roof deck. Again.

Some crazy bastard decided that we needed to eat again that day, so we went out the Lalibela, an Ethiopian restaurant. Little did I know, I love Ethiopian food. Why do I love Ethiopian food? Because you eat it with your fingers! Now that's my kind of meal!

Funny story: At one point in the evening, I needed to pee, and guess what? There was no toilet paper. Well, there were scraps of t.p. Just enough for me to take care of business, but not enough for the poor fools who were in line after me. They had the misfortune of having to use the men's room. Poor ladies.
UPDATE: Now that I think about it, I probably shouldn't have followed a short story about a potty trip with this pic. Doesn't really make this look at all appetizing, huh? It was though, despite its resemblance to... well... you know.

WHAT I ATE/DRANK:
37. Lalibela Special One, for four Combination of #8, 12, 13, 17, 21, 30, 31 (shared, obviously)
8. Kik Alicha
- yellow split peas cooked with onions, garlic, red peppers, turmeric and vegetable oil
12. Teckl Gomen
- cabbage and carrots cooked with onions, garlic turmeric and vegetable oil
13. Gomen Wot
- caler green cooked with onions, garlic and vegetable oil
17. Laga Ribs
- tender cubed pieces of lamb marinate with special spices, onions, tomatoes, jalapeno and garlic
21. Doro Wot
- sauteed tender chicken marinate in seasoned butter and stewed in red hot peppers sauce. flavored with ginger root, cardamon, garlic and exotic spices served with hard boiled eggs
30. Yebere Lalibela Ribs
- prime beef sauteed with seasoned butter, hot peppers, garlic, onions, tomatoes and jalapeno cooked in pan
31. Keye Wot
- fresh beef marinate in red wine and cooked with red hot peppers sauce, onions, ginger roots, garlic and exotic Ethiopian spices
Water and coffee
MY THOUGHTS:
Overall, yummy. I did not try the lamb dish because I have issues with eating baby animals.
WOULD I ORDER IT AGAIN:
Definitely. Especially if I were out and about with a group of people again. And we were slightly buzzed.

   
     
After our Ethiopian adventure, we met up with Unfortunate One's cousin and her husband and proceeded to travel (walk) to the Commissary, a cafe/bar/what-have-you, for a drink. I was underwhelmed. Just for fun, here's a little riddle for you...

Four men and two women walk into a mediocre, overpriced bar in DC. They wait 15 minutes for service after waiting 5 minutes to be seated. The following drinks were ordered: Irish coffee, Thin Mint, Brooklyn Lager, Gin and Tonic, Chardonnay Woop Woop, and Allagash White. They discussed the going rate of wives in Sudan, which, at the moment, apparently averages at about 85 cows. The bill, with tip, comes to $60 and change.

What did I have to drink? (feel free to leave your guess in the comments) 

(BLOODY APPENDAGE STORY AHEAD)    

We proceeded to call it quits and headed back to Gregarious' house where I proceeded to relieve myself of one tip o' toe of the big toe variety. I somehow managed to stub my toe on a set of free weights while trying to remake a bed. I pretty impressively gouged a chunk out of the tip of my big toe the size of a dime. There was cursing. There was a surprising amount of blood shed. There were no tears because I am not a wuss.

While I haven't exactly lost the tip of my toe, yet, there is a pretty decent sized skin flap hanging on for dear life. I'm hoping it chooses to stay, but I'm prepared for it and I to part ways. I would have taken a picture for you, but I haven't been able to look at it yet without the urge to vomit all over it. (Okay, so maybe I am a wuss.)

So, yay! That was my fun and exciting weekend. Thanks for sticking through to the end of that fabulous Weekend Roundup. If you were bored, I apologize, but just think how I felt. I had to live through it. 

   

Have a fan-freakin'-tastic Monday!

* Names have been changed to protect other people's identities. Duh.
** I may or may not be using this word as an innuendo. You decide.
*** For the record, I wasn't trying to blind the kitty. I was trying to get it to drink wine. It's not my fault he moved his head at the wrong moment.
+ This is not an innuendo.

The big 3-0...

So, last Sunday I celebrated my 30th {gasp} birthday. We started the celebration by ringing in the BIG day with some good beer and some good music at Brittany's Restaurant & Sports Bar. The bar was smokey, the crowd was, uh, interesting, so-to-speak (think middle aged, redneck women out for a night on the town and the men who like that sort of thing), but the music was good. Furious George, a pretty decent cover band, was definitely slumming it that evening. I'm sure they can, and do, play at much better venues. Their set was damn good though, and they managed to play quite a few of my favs while avoiding all the cliche cover band tunes.

On the evening of my actual b'day we had some ice cream cake before heading out to enjoy a yummy sushi dinner at the Ichiban Sushi House. (Incidentally, I was dismayed to discover that ice cream cake doesn't involve any cake. I'd never had it before, or at least not to my recollection, and was rather disappointed. However, considering my egg allergy and the fact that I had pancakes for breakfast, it was probably a good thing.) After stuffing ourselves with raw fish (well, I was stuffed) we hit up the Irish pub, Murphy's, for some beer, football (it was Sunday after all) and some good old fashioned Irish drinking songs. Despite the festive atmosphere we soon bailed because, quite frankly, the service sucked. We wandered over to the Columbia Firehouse for some quiet conversation and, of course, more beer (and considerably better service). The Firehouse offers a nice selection of regional beers, and I wish I could remember which one it was that I drank for the rest of the evening because it was quite good, but alas, I cannot.

We took Monday off (it was a holiday, after all) and headed out on Tuesday to the mountains of West Virginia for some skiing. Yes, I said West Virginia. Why? Lord only knows, but I don't think that's a trip I'll be making again anytime soon. I have to admit though, some of the scenery we drove through was quite impressive, like the Seneca Rocks and the area of the Smoke Hole Caverns, but when we arrived in Davis, WV, I wondered if we had made a very bad decision. Despite the isolation and backwardness look to the place, we did manage to find a really enjoyable place to eat, Sirianni's Cafe. The atmosphere was rustic and comfortable, the service was friendly and attentive, and their attitude was surprisingly liberal and anti-country. The only downside to this place was that they only accept cash or checks, and seeing as we only had about $24 on us, we settled on a pepperoni pizza. It was good, in fact it was so yummy I ate four slices.

After filling up our bellies and picking up some beer, we trekked back to our room at the Canaan Valley Resort. I really wish I had something good to say about our room, but it had to be the must run-down hotel room I have ever stayed in. From the mildewy tub to the water stained toilet and sink to the dysfunctional heater. Let's not forget the total 70s decor, which I'm pretty sure is the last time that bathroom was ever cleaned (seriously, there were spiders hiding in the corners of the shower). The Hickory Dining room was at least attractive enough, the food was okay and the service was decent. After filling up on another pancake breakfast Wednesday morning, we hit the slopes where I was finally able to try out my new ski boots (they were a birthday present for my last birthday). I only get to ski about once a year, so it takes me a few runs before I get the hang of it again (this time it took me about four). I should have avoided the midday break for beer and loaded fries at the bar though. I could only make it down the slopes two more times before I came this close to losing those fries all over the side of the mountain. Overall, the skiing was good. It was midweek so the mountain was pretty empty and the lines at the lifts were nonexistent.

So, how do I feel about turning 30? Well, ever since I turned 29 I've been getting all sorts of reactions whenever I admit my age. Some people responded with groans and asked me if I dreaded turning 30. Others expressed to me that my 30s would be my BEST DECADE EVER. Some even laughed because they just had their BIG day and were estatic to see someone else hit the mark. Me, I have mixed feelings about it. For one, I had expected to be much further along in accomplishing some big life goals. On the other hand, I see turning 30 as a fresh start. Turning 29 felt far much worse. As I have explained numerous times since the BIG day, 29 felt like the end of something, while 30 feels like the beginning. I have goals, I have aspirations and more importantly, I know what I want in life, and I will settle for no less. Most importantly, I realize that if my life is not what I want or expected, I have no one to blame but myself. I have the power, and I have the control to make myself happy, and I feel damn good about that. (Plus, I'm pretty sure I don't look 30 yet. see photo above)