Readers: I am headed to Sydney, NSW, Australia for Mardi Gras and a bit of traveling. Therefor, posting may be a bit slower than usual for the next two weeks. But know that I'll come back with stories, pictures, and video of boys with accents. Did I mention Aussies generally have really nice asses? Yeah.
I woke up in an unfamiliar bed next to a pale redhead, who I quickly learned was actually Israeli. Of course, I had to ask if he'd been in the army. We lounged in bed as I repeated everything I’d slurred through the night before, including panicking over not finding my phone in my pants.
Him: “Well, it was crowded, and I was coming over to put my coat down. You moved over, and smiled, saying, ‘We always have room for a shaved head!’”
Me: “And that worked?!”
Him: “Well, you were smiling.”
I bade my nocturnal companion safe travels and walked up to Rosebud’s place to see if I had left my phone there. I had checked her Facebook page, but there was no cell phone number. So when I arrived, I asked her doorman to give her a ring. No answer. The doorman offered to ring the mobile of his roommate, a fellow alumnus of my non-Ivy League school (thank god), and he said to send me up because Rosebud was there. Perfect timing because Rosebud literally in his town about to hop into the shower.
Him: “I thought it was your phone, but I wasn’t sure.”
Me: “Did you not see my picture as the wall paper? Whatever. Thank you.”
I headed home to tell myself that I’d be productive with unpacking the new apartment, but sleep called. By the time I’d woken up, I’d gotten a text invite to TTT’s for the Super Bowl, which made the third time in 3 days that I’d showed up at his place (that’ll teach you to move to a convenient neighborhood).
The buzz of the party was MicHELLe’s… I don’t quite know what it was called. It had shrimp and minced veggies and spices, and it made me wish I hadn’t scarfed down a huge plate of Chinese
on the train before I left home. I was the Sandra Lee to MicHELLe's Martha Stewart (i.e., I brought vodka). But the best was when Ms. W's contribution to the party when she walked in halfway through the second quarter.
MicHELLe: “I can’t!”
MicHELLe (cracking up): “A bag of chips, a block of cheese, and a knife?”
Ms. W: “It’s an old Mexican recipe!”
MicHELLe: “Not even shredded cheese. Just a block of chesse and a knife. Did you carry that on the train.”
Ms. W (with a neck roll): “Honey, I walked here. Don’t get it twisted: I’ll cut you!”
Apparently, she’d forgotten the other half of the old Mexican recipe: microwaving.
As the night went on, we drank more, and out laughter got louder. At one point, I said something hilariously insulting about MicHELLe's chastital virtue, and just as she was opening her mouth to defend herself, someone rang TTT’s buzzer. She said nothing and closed her mouth when the buzzer cut off, essentially lip synching the buzzer. We both burned off about as many calories as we had consumed in that one seizure of laughter. TTT's friends who were new to us were confused as to why we fell out of our chairs. TTT and Ms. W ignored; they know that's how we are all the time.
About an hour after the game ended, we headed out for a rather empty happy hour at Barrage. Did I mention that there were about 12 guys in the bar (including us), and TTT still managed to take one home? Yeah.
Click here to check out last year's jam-packed Superbowl weekend.
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Photos borrowed from about.com, freethought.com, and epinions.com.