Vacation, Camp and... DMV
Tuesday, Jul. 25, 2006 @ 4:15 p.m.
I am such a liar. It's been three weeks since I returned from Internet Dork Camp II and I still haven't written a word. Not a word! If it helps at all, I just got back from the DMV where I went willingly on my lunch break because I am just a party in a bag.
Here's the thing - I got my license ten years ago (late bloomer), issued by an angry man named Habib, and I don't look like that anymore. I also live at a totally different address and I've been carrying around that little new address document that DMV sends you for two and a half years. Now, that, my friends, is lazy.
I was going to go take care of this last week while on vacation, but who goes to the DMV on a vacation day? That's crazy talk. Instead, I went today and filled out my form and got my number: C257.
They called C255.
They called C256.
I perked up.
They called F128.
They called J455.
Finally, after about a million years I paid, got my picture taken, and left with a fresh and shiny license that reflects where I actually live, what I actually look like, and that no longer has my social security number plastered across the front. Score.
And yes, we took last week off to get shit done and have some time to do whatever we wanted to do. Apparently it's against the LAW to take a week off around here and not go somewhere. I think I shocked the janitor to the core when I told her we hadn't left town. "Not even to the beach??" No ma'am, but I did refinish our coffee table which was sort of sandy, what with the sanding and all. Hmph. Here's a short list of things we did last week:
- rode mountain bikes at two different parks
- saw Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (how can Depp-as-a-pirate be so prance-y and fey yet still so hot? It's a miracle of rare device.)
- Saw Clerks II (dirty!)
- had lunch with Kenny at my favorite French restaurant
- had lunch with Kate at another of my favorite restaurants
- slept in. A lot.
- watched hours upon hours of Tour de France coverage*
- made a delicious fresh peach pastry thingy
- refinished the coffee table (anytime you think refinishing a piece of furniture yourself is a good idea, think again. Damn, that's hard work.)
- did some shopping
- sold the Nova **
* Despite my outrage and despair about Jan Ullrich, my favorite fat German, being kicked out, the Tour still managed to rule. I'm delighted that Floyd Landis won. He kicked ass! He also eats chocolate gummi bears which makes me like him even more. I didn't think anyone else actually liked those but me.
** After being flaked out on by ten more people (my favorite was the girl who emailed and specifically wrote "I promise I won't flake out on you!" and then was never heard from again) someone finally bought the little bucket. I was sad and used the wad of cash from the sale to mop up my tears.
Okay, fine. Camp. CAMP. Camp was this: 9 women, one lake cottage, 800 boxes of wine, a whole lotta snacks and a boat. What the hell else could you want? We spent the weekend lounging, eating, drink, calling each other a whore, having pillow fights in our nighties, stuff like that.
Here's a shot from the road:
On the first night we all went out to a fancy restaurant:
We figured we'd better get the nice meal out of the way before we stopped showering.
Once we got to the cabin we spent a lot of time out on the boat, mostly drunk, thanks to some evil punch that Veronica made.
Here's the little boathouse:
Our fearless leader:
punch seems so...harmless.
Emiloo wrote her name on her cup:
We went out one night for fried things and this nice man was singing any number of terrible songs and a few good ones:
He was under the impression (how did that happen?) that it was my, um, 23rd birthday, so he sang me a nice birthday song. The drunker I got the more I liked him and it turns out he's originally from Richmond. They find me everywhere, people. EVERYWHERE.
Here we are eating more fried things:
Oh my God, how great is this picture? My friends are pretty.:
I think this one sums the weekend up nicely:
I miss those girls.