Memorial Day Weekend

My head is killing me today. I didn't drink all that much last night, but I think it is the cumulative effects of five strait nights of partying. This morning my body reminded me that I am not 22 anymore when I was unable to get out of bed when my alarm went off.

My goal was to take it easy this weekend. I have trips planned for the next five weekends, so I thought it would be a good idea to conserve some cash and rest up. That obviously didn't happen.

Friday night some friends came over for dinner. It was low key but we managed to put away quite a few bottles of wine.

I spent most of Saturday on my bike. It was Rolling Thunder in DC this weekend, so there were bikes everywhere. I dusted off my Ducati and rode down to the mall to snap some pictures of some of the more exotic rides. It was cool to see the mall overrun by bikers. I found it a little sad, though, that most of the "bikers" seemed to be old rich guys wearing Rolex's. Maybe this is because the vast majority of the machines downtown were Harley's, some of which can cost upwards of $40,000 after all the chrome is added. It used to be that bikers were bad asses that rode everywhere for the camaraderie. I saw license plates from all over the country, but when I asked guys how long it took them to ride here, the response was usually "Well, we trailered them to Arlington, then it was a 20 minute ride in from there". Pussy.

Saturday night I went to a Nats game with some friends, then we ended up at the bars in Eastern Market. We started drinking around 4, so by midnight we were hammered. I must have drank a bottle of rum over the course of the night, compounded by many shots of Jagermeister. In high school we learned that when you drink the first thing you lose is your judgement. I usually think of that little factoid when I am ordering shots of black death.

In keeping with my lack-of-judgement I got roped into a conversation with three...let's just say they weren't attractive girls, there's no need to be mean. We had been to every bar on 8th Street and Pennsylvania Ave, and there really just wasn't any talent around, so I didn't mind that I was considering taking one of these girls home, I felt I had exhausted all other options. One girl was downright huge, one had bad acne, and number three was the lesser of all evils. She was short, a little heavy, and not attractive, but she had big boobs which I later motorboated. I talked to her for a while, and got her number, but in the end my friends talked some sense into me and I went home with a condiment caddy instead (sorry Ugly Mug). It was certainly the best decision I had made all night. I somehow dropped $250 at the bars. Nice.

Last night I went to a party at a friend's house. I talked to one girl for a while and then spotted that she had a tongue piercing. I haven't seen one of those in a while. She mentioned that she was an aerobics instructor, which made sense since that is probably one of the only professions that you can have a metal bar stuck through your tongue. About an hour later tongue-bar girl asked me where I went to school, and I in turn asked her, thinking she was going to say PG County Fitness Academy. Turns out she went to an Ivy League School and is a scientist. She teaches a few fitness classes a week. I felt like such a jackass.

There was one really cute girl there so I made my way over to talk to her. Within four minutes I learned that she was a cheerleader at Univ. of Florida, had her own law practice, owned a large house in Colorado, and was a member of some sorority that only accepted "extremely hot girls". Had I walked into a Twilight Zone episode, who gives a shit? I went back to talk to tongue ring, at least she was interesting. Cheerleader didn't like that she wasn't the center of attention, and proceeded to talk about her accomplishments in a very loud voice, so everyone could hear them. There was a hot tub at the party, I wanted to hold her head under water until her feet stopped moving.

I left around midnight and was up at 6am.