Notes from a Long Weekend

1. All the nostalgia for 2001 (and a visit from the Redhead) has meant that my friends and I have been living in the past for the last week or so. In an effort to remember that it’s 2006 and my body can only take so much, I have attempted to keep the level of debauchery to a minimum, but I have been eating a lot of bad food. This has resulted in a rather annoying mystery stomach ailment, which I see as my body holding up a white flag while screaming “No mas! No mas!” The last week has included a ridiculous amount of bad food. I do not the have the best diet in the world, but I eat relatively healthily and in the summer, I’m usually too hot to eat large portions. But the past week has seen such gastronomic feats as an Irish breakfast for lunch (two kinds of blood pudding!) followed by a burger and fries for dinner, a ridiculously heavy, garlic-laden French meal that followed a rather heavy brunch, McDonalds, mozzarella sticks and a huge plate of ravioli, and a hot dog and boardwalk fries at a baseball game. In a rare moment of sanity, I decided to pass on Ben’s Chili Bowl for dinner last night. My stomach is exploding and I’ve probably put on 10 pounds. Detox begins today. (Sadly, herbal tea is not nearly as appetizing as beer. Or wine. Or vodka. Sigh.)

2. Bryc3 and I were passing by a local street and I pointed out where a friend used to live (going along with the 2001 theme). He didn’t recognize the street at all, even when I pointed out the Gay Godfather’s house*. “Did there used to be more trees?” I found this hard to believe, considering how much time we all spent in two apartments on this particular street, but it’s entirely possible that he never saw the street in daylight.

3. I have now come to the realization that I like baseball much more in theory than I do in practice. If the games were about two-thirds shorter, perhaps my short attention span could take it. It always sounds like a good idea: baseball, friends, tailgating, beer, hot dogs. Sadly, the reality is often 4 hours of dullness, interspersed with about 10 minutes of actual interesting happenings. Oh, and it was 400 degrees out. The end of the game was really exciting, but I hardly noticed, being that I was suffering from heatstroke**. Yeah, I’m a bad American.

3. I got eaten alive by mosquitoes this weekend. I tried to count them, but lost track at 26. I am estimating 432. My legs are a mess of welts covered in hydrocortisone. It’s hot. They itch so much that even the slightest breeze rustling against my legs sets off paroxysms of itchiness. I’m desperately trying not to scratch.

4. Lord Merlin is away for the week and has left me in charge of things, by which I mean in charge of his cable. I have been sneaking down the hall to his apartment to watch SoapNet at strange hours of the day and night. A few thoughts: Would Jess/Tess just integrate already? Why is Blair so so so stupid? Why would anyone bother to stalk Adriana? Why does the wardrobe department hate Sam so much? Oh, and Robert Scorpio, even though you’re old and wrinkly, I love you. Really. If I actually had SoapNet, I might never leave the house again and would actually enter the channel’s preferred demographic: overweight shut-ins.***

5. I saw Superman this weekend and it left me feeling distinctly “meh.” I realized that I’m not a fan of Superman. He’s too perfect and boring. I likely superheroes in the tormented outsider mode, e.g., Batman, Spiderman, Wolverine. Also, it’s very hard to buy Lois Lane as a Pulitzer Prize–winning reporter when she is so incredibly stupid**** (Do not read this footnote if you want to avoid spoilers. Seriously. I’m warning you.).

6. I heard something about a former friend over the weekend. She was someone I had to negotiate a "divorce" a while back, and with every new thing I hear about her, I feel pretty good about my decision.

*Yes, Virginia, there is a Gay Mafia, and they have really delightful row houses in Dupont.
**Really, a woman who spends much of her summer with her hand to her forehead moaning about having “the vapors” probably wasn’t cut out for viewing a sport that requires many hours of sitting outside in the heat.
***Seriously, there are an awful lot of commercials for weight loss products, all of which are endorsed by doctors from extremely dubious sounding medical schools (Hollywood Upstairs Medical College).
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Do not read if you want to be surprised.


****Really, Lex Luthor doesn’t even have to look for a way to get to Superman since Lois walks her ridiculously small ass and that of her not-so-super child right into his clutches. Yes, I need to investigate this mysterious power failure that seems to have originated at this mysterious mansion, so let me bring my child along for the ride. And Superman’s kid is name Jason? Really? It’s so… not super. I guess naming him anything with “El” in it would have given away the plot twist.