NoSalesTax

Two Elon alumni (2002) have pooled their talents to bring excitement and joy to your day. One is a classy woman who combines her Italian and feminine powers to influence men of all shapes and sizes. The other is a tall blond man who relies on wit and boyish good looks to impress women, especially when they're drunk. Join them in their epic pursuit of the phenomenon known as adulthood. NoSalesTax side effects may include addiction and abrupt laughter as colleagues look on in confused jealousy.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Weekend in DC (Part Two)

I met up w/ OOB and our friend Karen at a loud Mexican restaurant in Dupont for her bday. A bunch of her Ameri-friends joined us, which is always fun. AmeriCorps*NCCC really is like a frat, only w/ more drinking and no elephant walks.

We spent much of dinner killing pitchers of margaritas and remembering our days out west. OOB survived the exclusive conversations by staring at the tourney games on TV. We all left after Karen blew out the candle on her cake, making sure not to ignite the giant sombrero on her head. The nine of us then walked to Karen’s bar of choice, Brass Monkey (yes, the same Brass Monkey I’d been to the previous nite). OOB and I stood and watched basketball as the girls sat at a table and did their thing. And when I say, “Did their thing,” I mean they sat there as numerous guys sat down to hit on them.

On a side note, how many parents tell their kids they met at a bar? Not a lot. I suspect many of them are lying. For some reason, meeting at a hostel while backpacking across Europe sounds better than going home together after too many Vodka Tonics. Anyway, back to Saturday…

We left for Tom Tom’s after some drunk losers (not OOB and I) pissed off the bday girl after striking out w/ her. One of my Elon friends, Katie B., met up w/ us inside, again bridging the gap between my diff. circles of friends. Eventually, Karen and OOB had to go downstairs and satisfy their dancing jones. Unfortunately, they couldn’t contain it long enough and had to start dancing on the stairs. Yup, these are my friends.

As the nite wore on, I found myself chatting up an attractive Ivy League grad who works in a think tank. I used to think I was smart. OOB finally returned upstairs and proceeded to sit down and pass out. Or maybe he pretended to pass out just to make me look like a good friend as I woke him up and sent him home. Even the greatest have off-nites.

After Katie B. and I closed down the bar w/ our newest friends, my tank thinker gave me her business card and hopped in a cab. I’m wondering if she missed the part when I told her I live in BOSTON. I contemplated walking up to another bar, pounding on the window to get a guy’s attention, asking him if he likes apples before slamming her business card against the glass and saying, “Well I got her business card! How d’ya like them apples?” Somehow it just doesn’t have the same effect. If this continues, maybe I’ll need a little black Rolodex.

In case you’re wondering, Katie B. and I ended up at Pizza Mart before calling it a nite. The best 1,300 calories ever consumed in two minutes. I can't wait to go back.

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