John rented a house on the Jersey Shore for the month of August, and Rob and I went out this weekend to spend Labor Day with him. We celebrated the "end" of summer in the normal ways: cooking, drinking, eating, lying on the beach, and with absolutely excessive sessions of Guitar Hero on the Wii.
On Saturday night, I learned how to play. By Sunday night, John had to kick me out of his room (where the TV was) so that he could sleep, because we all agreed that I was simply not going to master that painfully bad Slayer song. And no one wanted to hear it again. I actually think this might have been some kind of Wii joke, because that mess was not a real song. I grudgingly took my glass of wine into another, Guitar Hero-less room. With my real friends (yes, alone.)
Nina and Chat joined us on Sunday; they are pregnant with twins and recently found out that they're having a boy and a girl. Nina's response to this news was the following:
"Oh yeah, it's going to be great. Unless they're, you know, too close. Like Angelina Jolie and her brother."
Fascinating. As often happens, when I looked over at Chat, he was just shaking his head and saying words under his breath. I think I heard "insane" and "hormone."
The five of us have spent a fair amount of time together, so there's not a lot of censoring going on. At one point--late in the afternoon by which time normal people have given at least fleeting thought to their appearances--John walked into the kitchen, looked at me and said, "Have you completely given up or will you be showering today?" It was not really a glamorous kind of weekend and that is, in large part, what was so great about it.
That and the pervert babies.
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