The other day, I had a laugh attack at an email from former Daily Caller intern Katie McHugh: “I really miss you and DC right now, especially as the weather here chills and gets frostier every morning. DC (especially Georgetown) felt like the land of eternal summer.”
If you’ve read any of my blog entries this year, you know I spend 85 percent of my time complaining about D.C. winter and fall. Katie, who hails from Pennsylvania, says the nation’s capital may as well be the middle east in terms of heat. I told her she has no idea what she’s missing and needs to travel out west, the true land of eternal summer.
That’s where I’ll be tomorrow afternoon! My mom has already tried to plan every second of my short trip home, and as much as I’d like to shun the idea of a schedule, I need to make arrangements with friends and family members early I don’t forget to see anybody. Last night, she text messaged me at midnight to say I can attend a yoga session at her gym later this week, but I’d rather take my puppy Roxy to the beach. On the other hand, yoga courses are far superior in northern California (in my opinion) where there’s less emphasis on working out and more on achieving balance, flexibility, core strength, and inner peace.
While I anxiously await my vacation home, I’ll miss my D.C. friends this weekend. After Nikki moved back to the west coast last month, I worried my social life would suffer dramatically and that I’d have no incentive to do anything fun without her presence. Luckily, I have two strong networks that have kept me busy, entertained, fulfilled, and happy, so they’re here for me no matter what.
Most recently, my D.C. buddies observed the scene when a heavily drunk acquaintance went nuts on me at the bar. Plastered beyond explanation, the guy repeatedly referred to me as “hot woman” and sent me into bouts of laughter.
“Hey hot woman, can I stand next to you in the group picture?” he asked.
“Whatever,” I replied.
“TRIUMPH!” he yelled, bowing to me.
When he inquired about my preferred alcoholic beverage, I revealed that I’ve been in love with Stella Artois ever since studying abroad in Paris. But Stella wasn’t high brow enough for this guy.
“Beer?????” he said, furrowing his eyebrow before storming off to purchase more liquor.
A few minutes later, he approached and said, “I’m such a loser.”
“Why?” I asked.
With that, he tripped and accidentally (and conveniently) dropped his gin and tonic on my feet.
“Because I just spilled my drink all over the hottest girl in D.C.,” he said.
While I appreciated the
drunk goggles compliment, it’s a hyperbole if there ever was one. Usually I’d be insulted by such forwardness and objectification, but this dude was entertaining and hilarious. No complaints here.
Such stories are no fun without friends as witnesses, so may my trip home be free of similar incidents and general drama.