I took Friday off. It was nice. I meant to sleep in, but as is the way with these things I was up with Steve at 6:15. Word. So, in the words of H's Dad: I cured cancer, baked enough bread to feed a starving village and flew to the moon. Twice. All before breakfast. What I really did was get the house clean and errands run. Productive but not quite such a high-bar.
On saturday afternoon H showed up. We love it when H is in town. He's mucho fun. Had some dinner at the Press Box, where R and his facial hair joined us:
This is Steve's beer. It's funny because when I had foot surgery I told people that I'd been attacked by a landshark. This was before I cooked up the Completely Fictional but Based on an Animal Planet Show Story about the Sandfish in Marrakech. It (the beer) tastes like river water.
So then after that we played some Guitar Hero and waited for J to show up. Hee Hee. Little J. I'm going to call her that from now on. I think there's a resemblance, don't you?
Ok, not really. But that's mostly because my Little J is badass and Jenny Humphrey is a conniving bitch. But we'll see what Season 2 has to say about that. I can see my Little J in that outfit, though.
So then she showed up and we headed to R's place for some partying. It was wicked. There were some stripper hags and their pimps in the elevator. Seriously. They could have been on Temptation Island or something.
And then there was general lounging about:
And then the next morning we dragged ourselves to the Farmers market for some eggs and other tasties and then R and SP wandered down for brunch and even more Guitar Hero.
Best part of the whole weekend? No Driving. Woot!