Again, Lor if you're reading, beware.
If Sunday dinner at my parents was any indication of the week ahead you would falsely believe it was filled with quiet conversations, relaxing, DIY projects, love, catching up on an old book, feeding ducks, etc. Essentially, anything and everything that constitutes serenity and the illusion of how to conduct your life in a sweet A-framed seaside cottage. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. The minute we returned home shit hit the fan, the anxiety levels went up as the motivation for school work rapidly declined leaving The LB in a state of tumult.
On Monday Katie's "stink-eye exploded" due to immeasurable amounts of stress causing her to look and act not unlike Marty Feldman as Igor. Never one to bottle up and pop a blood vessel and living life with the sentiment "misery enjoys company" if I was going down, you were coming with me.
I started:
Shouting irrationally
Losing sleep
Sweating profusely
Fleeing the house for a change of scenery, this helped nothing.
Crying to my mother, v. unsympathetic, aloof Greek woman and not ideal person to seek console from.
Pawning off unsuspecting house guest on innocent roommate (cyber-apologies to Britt and Conor.)
Panicking resulting in loss of ten fingernails, thinner hair, weight gain.
Calling Katie excessively to check progress
Cursing the bastard who invented sheet protectors
Stapling my hand twice
Repeat, repeat, repeat--It was ugly. I'm not proud.
Nevertheless, Tuesday came and went. We somehow produced a portfolio, interviewed and left fairly unscathed. (Still sending a big fat Fuck You to the School of Ed for shaving 3 years off my life expectancy) Feeling ever so accomplished, collectively, our group of friends deemed all other school work back burner worthy and went buck wild. On a Tuesday! Several attended the Flogging Molly show at Lupo's which required pregaming, loud Irish music, yelling and overall destruction of Kitchen area. The remainder opted to destroy the adjacent Living Room area and smoke ourselves stupid. A minimal amount of damage was done: one pair of wet pants, one devalued invisibility cloak, one mattress misplaced. Shortly there after an impromptu jam sesh birthed the band "Me and Ty" debuting their album Poetry In Motion, which features the number one single "Dirty Pop." Katie and I were the only two fans to attend their first show. Realizing at this point that all was lost our guests kicked aside beer bottles, reserved sheets of newspaper as blankets and passed out where ever there was room sometime around 3 am.
Wednesday we headed to Boston. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Jordan, Conor and I braved public transportation and set out to see a series of monuments dedicate to sports that mean virtually nothing to me. Jordan and I trekked along as Conor "oooed" and "ahhhhed" the fuck out of scrap metal hunks shaped like Bobby Orr and Ted Williams. Bonus points for taking that embarrassing picture in the Giant Baseball Glove Mr. Michigan, gettin' that shit framed. We also made it to Quincy Market Place. In other words the meeting place for all things delicious runner-up after Disney for "The Happiest Place on Earth." I am drooling just thinking of it. Jordan, a newly converted omnivore, enjoyed various chicken products with me while Conor abused his free sample privileges at the chowder station. Rendered no more active than tubs of lard lunch left us beat and we headed home.
A patterned developed: spend, eat, sleep, repeat.
Shortly after arriving home, Katie suggested Thai Cuisine. Cue more drool. We met up with our friend Nick and overindulged in Pad Thai, coffee, crab rangoons (which I love enough to marry), and I'm not sure what else. I usually black out entering a thai-induced euphoria somewhere around the appetizers. Cue more weight gain.
Thursday was titled: Corrupt the Siblings Day. We had Jamie (15) and Chris (14?) down and told them we were going to take it easy, relax, watch a movie. Then we bought them alcohol. Chris started a small can pyramid we all commended him on the next day and won the award for Last Juvenile Standing. Jamie took shots and got served at Pelly's before I did. Cool. Though, in all fairness she did pass out in all her clothes maybe twenty minutes after returning from the bar.
The following photos are for amusement only, we don't usually use household objects as props, or have photo shoots in the living room. Only when friends are here from Michigan or something.
I look better this way, no?
Friday, Jordan's 21st, is for next time folks.
Until then.
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