Monday, February 02, 2004
Rita and The Patriots and Pigs in a Blanket
This weekend was a whirlwind of madness.
As I sit at my desk this morning, I am reminded (by my sagging eyelids) how little sleep I actually got. I am also slightly impressed that I made it through the entire experience, from beginning to end, with a positive attitude and jubilant mood.
Rita’s visit was the shortest it’s ever been. We partied, we talked, we hugged, we laughed, and we spent every second trying to maximize the visit in whatever way we could. She was able to spend time with Kelly, Angie, Mariah, and even Ari hung with us for a bit! So many beers, so many bottles of wine, quite a few Malibu’s and pineapple. In total, I slept for 10 hours this weekend. And fuck do I feel it today.
After sending Rita off in her airport bound cab, I took the subway to Paul’s apartment. Sure, it was 7:30am and a Sunday, why WOULDN’T he be expecting me at his front door? At first he was irritated that I woke him up, but after he had a minute to realize that I went over to be with him, he softened and even went late to work on my account. I then crashed for a 3 hour power nap.
When I awoke, Mariah and I hastily through together a Super Bowl party replete with chicken wings, hot dog roll-ups and numerous varieties of vegetables, potato chips and dipping sauces. There was more beer, some red wine, some vodka tonics, and even a few bottles of soda…you know, for pussies.
8 people were at the party, only one of which was straight. Yes, gay people pretend to like the super bowl too! I think everyone had fun, although I didn’t move off the couch for the entire evening. I just kept shoving my face with whatever I could get my hands on. It was sick and wonderful all at the same time.
Then half time hit.
What the fuck. Is something seriously wrong with Justin and Janet? I mean, I understand trying to push the envelope and shit, but at the Super Bowl? The event children stay up with their families to watch? Parents who allow their children to BUY Justin’s CD’s? I just didn’t get it and to be honest, I thought it destroyed their performance. It was bad enough that the Super Bowl performers were warmed up leftovers from years ago, but to end it with a jaw dropping removal of Janet’s right breast plate? Scummy. And lame. I was not impressed.
And I was even MORE unimpressed that Justin’s reps are saying that it was a wardrobe malfunction. Give me a fucking break. You made a decision that was risky and it didn’t work. Accept your consequences. Janet’s star metal pasty over her nipple? Clearly she wasn’t prepared for the ripping of the costume.
And also…was Janet’s boob white? I don’t see a lot of boobs in my travels so it’s possible that black girls have white boobs, but logic tells me otherwise.
The game itself was really good. Very exciting. The guy who owns the building I work in also owns the Patriots, so the game meant a little more to me than it usually would have. The commercials blew, but Beyonce blew…my socks off! That girl…she’s the next Whitney Houston, I tell ya. Cept not Whitney. You understand.
Afterwards, I stayed up to watch the Survivor: All Stars and the late edition news to find out what the hell happened with Janet’s titty bomb. Finally fell asleep at 1:30am. Crazy Joe. Crazy and stupid Joe.
One last piece of info. for the day: Mary-Ellis Bunim (co-creator of The Real World/Road Rules) has died. I have to admit, this hurts almost as much as Nell Carter.
Now I must get through the rest of my day as quickly as possible.
I plan on climbing immediately into Paul’s bed upon arrival at his apartment. It will be there that he will serve me dinner.
It will be there that I will die until tomorrow.
It will be there that zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
This weekend was a whirlwind of madness.
As I sit at my desk this morning, I am reminded (by my sagging eyelids) how little sleep I actually got. I am also slightly impressed that I made it through the entire experience, from beginning to end, with a positive attitude and jubilant mood.
Rita’s visit was the shortest it’s ever been. We partied, we talked, we hugged, we laughed, and we spent every second trying to maximize the visit in whatever way we could. She was able to spend time with Kelly, Angie, Mariah, and even Ari hung with us for a bit! So many beers, so many bottles of wine, quite a few Malibu’s and pineapple. In total, I slept for 10 hours this weekend. And fuck do I feel it today.
After sending Rita off in her airport bound cab, I took the subway to Paul’s apartment. Sure, it was 7:30am and a Sunday, why WOULDN’T he be expecting me at his front door? At first he was irritated that I woke him up, but after he had a minute to realize that I went over to be with him, he softened and even went late to work on my account. I then crashed for a 3 hour power nap.
When I awoke, Mariah and I hastily through together a Super Bowl party replete with chicken wings, hot dog roll-ups and numerous varieties of vegetables, potato chips and dipping sauces. There was more beer, some red wine, some vodka tonics, and even a few bottles of soda…you know, for pussies.
8 people were at the party, only one of which was straight. Yes, gay people pretend to like the super bowl too! I think everyone had fun, although I didn’t move off the couch for the entire evening. I just kept shoving my face with whatever I could get my hands on. It was sick and wonderful all at the same time.
Then half time hit.
What the fuck. Is something seriously wrong with Justin and Janet? I mean, I understand trying to push the envelope and shit, but at the Super Bowl? The event children stay up with their families to watch? Parents who allow their children to BUY Justin’s CD’s? I just didn’t get it and to be honest, I thought it destroyed their performance. It was bad enough that the Super Bowl performers were warmed up leftovers from years ago, but to end it with a jaw dropping removal of Janet’s right breast plate? Scummy. And lame. I was not impressed.
And I was even MORE unimpressed that Justin’s reps are saying that it was a wardrobe malfunction. Give me a fucking break. You made a decision that was risky and it didn’t work. Accept your consequences. Janet’s star metal pasty over her nipple? Clearly she wasn’t prepared for the ripping of the costume.
And also…was Janet’s boob white? I don’t see a lot of boobs in my travels so it’s possible that black girls have white boobs, but logic tells me otherwise.
The game itself was really good. Very exciting. The guy who owns the building I work in also owns the Patriots, so the game meant a little more to me than it usually would have. The commercials blew, but Beyonce blew…my socks off! That girl…she’s the next Whitney Houston, I tell ya. Cept not Whitney. You understand.
Afterwards, I stayed up to watch the Survivor: All Stars and the late edition news to find out what the hell happened with Janet’s titty bomb. Finally fell asleep at 1:30am. Crazy Joe. Crazy and stupid Joe.
One last piece of info. for the day: Mary-Ellis Bunim (co-creator of The Real World/Road Rules) has died. I have to admit, this hurts almost as much as Nell Carter.
Now I must get through the rest of my day as quickly as possible.
I plan on climbing immediately into Paul’s bed upon arrival at his apartment. It will be there that he will serve me dinner.
It will be there that I will die until tomorrow.
It will be there that zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
