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.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Actually, We're Alive

Contrary to nasty rumors around the World Wide Web, T-Rock and I are both alive and well, soaking up the early days of spring as we hunker down for the craziness that is May and June. OK, I don't really know what her schedule's like since she just started a new job (sounds like a good blog post!), but I'm entering the busiest time of my year. Buckle up.

Alas, I'm not crazy about work-talk, so instead I'll share w/ you a quick story about last weekend, in which I returned to DC for another round of drinking and debauchery. I also found time to have dinner w/ T-Rock and Gregg (and others) at a lovely restaurant w/ outdoor seating (of which we took full advantage). Holy shit, this post had better get more exciting or else you'll think you're reading People Magazine.

So I'll get right to the latest Top-4 List, this one being the four most important things I learned on my weekend adventure to DC (and a nite in NYC).

4. The Power of Accents
Having grown up in a household featuring a dad from Long Island and a mom from France, I've lived most of my life in the presence of accents. That may be one reason I went to college far from home. The strange thing is, once my family moved to NH (I was seven), my dad somehow dropped the NY accent altogether and quickly adopted a New England accent (to some extent). My mother, however, continues to showcase her French accent. In middle school, whenever friends (no girls, of course) would call my house for the first time, they'd have trouble understanding my mom over the phone. One buddy even asked me, once I was handed the phone, if my mother was from Puerto Rico. Um... no. My current friends always crack up whenever I break into impersonations of my mom. I'd type it, but trying to convey an accent through typing is like trying to explain the stench of fresh vomit through a drawing. So anyway, our waitress at dinner spent the entire night asking us what next we'd like to drink, always in the most knee-weakening Argentinian accent. The fact she was easy on the eyes made the meal even better. The pitcher of margaritas I swallowed also added to the atmosphere. I digress.

3. Rules of Adams-Morgan
If you've read past blogs, esp. from when I lived in the District, you may be under the assumption (and rightfully so) that Adams-Morgan, a section of bars in DC, has no rules whatsoever. On most nights, you'd be correct. Fridays at Millie & Al's, however, one rule is in effect: Patrons cannot pour their own drinks. After a long day of driving (NYC to DC) and a long evening of drinking, my partner in crime (Charlie) and I found ourselves as the last two standing from our original entourage. We, of course, were sitting at the bar drinking cheap pitcher beer out of plastic cups, the kind college students use after all the red and blue party cups have been used. Think of every cup you've drank out of at elementary-school barbecues. That's what was in our hands around 230am Friday. Realizing the night was short on stories (I'd only been kicked out of one bar so far), I remembered my new motto, which is, "I don't care anymore." Falling back on this thinking, I waited for the three bartenders to turn their backs before reaching over and filling up my cup. I still think I was extremely sly in this maneuver, although Charlie remembers it differently. We're both in agreement, however, that I turned to him while pouring and said, "Charlie, check it out!" Then the bartenders turned around and the bouncer walked over as my friend said, "Dood, you're about to get kicked out." Apparently it wasn't serve-your-own-drink night at Millie & Al's. Maybe that's Wednesdays.

2. Not Everyone is Fun
At the aforementioned dinner, conversation was plentiful and laughter was infectious. That is, most people added to the fun atmosphere of young professionals livin it up in the city. One couple, however, contributed nothing. You've heard the phrase "like pulling teeth." Talking to them was like pulling an elephant's teeth by climbing through its ass and yanking on them while crouched in its mouth. Luckily, the fun people outnumbered the opposition, and afterward we all wondered why the couple showed up. They could've stayed home, ordered take-out from a burrito place and not spoken to each other. They could've saved some money and watched the Final Four w/out the aid of closed captioning.

1. I Miss DC
I really like Boston, esp. the summers. Summers in DC, on the other hand, are a brutal three months of humid misery. Walking two blocks results in a sweaty back and pits. Aside from that, however, I miss my previous city. Granted, had I not needed food stamps while living down there, I probably would've enjoyed the District even more. Nonetheless, the mix of friends, happy hours and the Metro are things I will not soon forget. The fact I had a 9-5 job I didn't think about once I walked out the door also had an effect on my state of my mind, back when I had plenty of time and very little money. I doubt I'll ever move back to DC, but the memories I have of our nation's capital will always be dear to me. I'm sure if Boston legalized happy hour drink specials, I'd view it in the same light as DC. Apparently residents were drinking too much, which should come as no surprise if you've ever experienced a New England winter (all five months of it). They're just like DC summers, only to the other extreme.


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