To Ralph and Bruce: Thanks for a great weekend

As I am finally back to my regular schedule, hopefully my posts will also be more regular. Today I’d like to make note of my weekend, which was pretty ridiculous. Normally I’d preface the weekend story with a whole bunch of background information, but it will just take too long. I’m going to try and keep this brief…but I guess we’ll see where my written wanderings take us…

Friday night I had the pleasure of going out to a lovely dinner at The Palm with a group of friends. Dinner at The Palm in Dupont is always a good time, but it’s an even BETTER time when your friend’s father makes a loud toast in a thick southern accent that goes something like this:

“When the weather is hot and sticky

Ain’t no time to dunk your dicky.

When the dew is on the punkin’

That’s the time for dicky dunkin.”

Amen sir, amen.

He gave another toast that is even better, but I’m not even going to try and write it down for fear that I will butcher it completely. Needless to say, we rounded off The Palm with a shot of Grand Marnier and headed to Georgetown to find a bar to hang out in. Now normally, I don’t do dinner at The Palm and go out to bars Georgetown. I’m more of a Five Guys burgers and Murphy’s in Old Town kind of girl, but on occasion I like to mix it up.

So we went to Mr. Smiths in Georgetown to see what kind of trouble we could get into. Unfortunately, not a lot. There must have been some kind of asshole convention going on in Mr. Smiths, because everyone there SUCKED. Now, I’m not ragging on the bar. It seemed like it could have been a pretty cool place. The crowd was awful. I could bitch about it for the rest of the post, but I did enough bitching about it Friday night while I was there. Bottom line: no fun central.

Saturday I attended the Maryland vs. Boston College game. Ahem, GO TERPS! What an AWESOME game! Maryland won, C-dubs and I rushed the field, and then fun ensued. While on the field, C-dubs and I were high-fiving anyone who would come near us. We even did a brief sprint down the sideline, slapping the hands of the people who were “too cool” to rush the field and stayed in the stands. I rounded off this sprint by doing a magnificent, leaping high-five. You should have seen it: perfectly formed hand position, outstretched arms, shit-eating grin on my face, and legs in perfect scissor kick formation. Unfortunately I did not take into account the small gutter that follows the edge of the field. I crumpled into a heap against the stands. That guy I was trying to high-five was totally left hanging. What made it worse was that he didn’t even laugh. Now I thought it was hysterical that I fell, but that guy, not so much. He just kept his hand held up in the air, apparently pissed off that I missed. Sorry.

C-dubs was too excited to even notice I fell. Even though I told her several times, she just kept saying “Dude, that sucks” and continued to run around. She should have paid more attention to the fact that I fell down, because as we were running around the stadium to meet up with her father (visiting from out of town, giver of the “Dicky Toast”) she leapt off a set of stairs behind the team house, fell down, and broke two of her fingers.

I drug C-dubs inside the team house, where her father was waiting to meet up with us after the game.

Now, fortunately for C-dubs, her family is very good friends with the Friedgens (Ralph Friedgen = head coach for Maryland football). C-dub’s father was hanging out in the team house with Ralph’s wife, who whisked her away to see the trainer. We had just won a huge game against a ranked team, players were milling around the team house, and C-dubs was getting an x-ray from the Terp’s football trainer. After the x-ray, we went to Ralph’s office. It was surreal: the entire Friedgen family was sitting around chatting, Ralph was having a drink at his huge desk, C-dubs was chumming it up with the Friedgen daughters, and there I stood, feeling awkward but psyched out of my mind to be hanging out in the head coach’s office after a huge win. C-dub’s dad gave the “Dicky Toast” for the second time that weekend and then Ralph signed my sweatshirt.

Sunday was StuD’s birthday. We went to see Bruce Springsteen. Great concert, except when did Bruce get so political? Anyway, nothing too ridiculous happened at the concert. StuD and I had a great time, sang “Born to Run” at the top of our lungs, and danced around a bit. I would make fun of how many mid-life crisis male earrings I saw, but this post is too long already. Anyways, Bruce is a good way to wrap up a weekend.

**Side note: this wasn’t part of my weekend, but I thought it was funny. StuD’s roommate tailgated a little too hard on Saturday. Apparently he blacked out at his tailgate and woke up in the hospital, complete with a catheter. He had no recollection of how he got there. He then tried to escape the hospital, but a security guard caught him. Bummer.