Refer to Nabob's post below, if you want human interest, or football. I have nothing of substance to offer.
- The Wrens on Friday were teriff, a nice (nice! I like that word, it was a nice night) combination of rock and light histrionics and audience participation and Miller Lite. The Wrens are one of those groups that when asked, I cannot name or think of a single song they sing. I can visualize Meadowlands, but I just can't say what's on it. However, at the concert, I'm all five-year-old at the zoo or something, high on cotton candy: "I know this one! And this one! And this one! I actually may have forgotten how much I liked this group!"
- Saturday I had breakfast w/ SNM; beignets and coffee in Del Ray, served by an adorable urchin named Holly, sporting a hairbow and white apron, a child who has probably never had a tantrum in her whole life, and most likely gives her parents stock tips and balances their checkbooks. Dinner that night with my parents and my brother + girlfriend was uneventful, his favorite gift being Nancy Grace's "Objection!" (A joke, we think, but in a semi-serious moment- held the book up during dessert and proclaimed: "JUST LOOK AT HER COME-HITHER STARE!" Ugh.) There was some slight family drama (as always) and, oh, I did tell a hilarious story about the guy I once saw eating a giant sheet cake while driving on Rt. 66- remind me to tell you that one (that's mostly the whole story, but I'm much better in person - I involve swooping dramatic hand gestures, and usually start laughing at myself too hard to actually finish the damn tale.)
- Then I had brunch with 2 friends, all nice and drowsy on Sunday morn, we felt like real life ladies, and I ordered quiche and - who am I? Ordering quiche? On a Sunday morning? One of us wore a skirt? With girlfriends? Who talked about their kids the entire time? We should be hungover, barely functioning from a night of coke and crowdsurfing to teen punks named "Vampire's Revenge" or something. (Maybe next weekend, who's with me?)
- Also previously mentioned, we're dogsitting. Our tiny house is a warzone of dog farts and chew toys. Elder Statesman Black Dog, for whom we are dogsitting, is teaching Rookie Resident Brown Dog all sorts of tricks, like finding one’s voice and jumping on furniture.
In conclusion, The End, all I did this weekend was eat and drink and be merry-ish. Nats game tomorrow night.
And now, here's a picture of Indira Ghandi holding a koala bear!