Baseball, Beer, and Bad Movies

8 May

Saturday started off with Mama Bird and I rolling around in her oh-so-comfy bed, possibly still drunk, eyes closed and cracking up about the previous night. Talk about a productive three hours…it’d be tough to beat, but we were definitely up for the challenge.

The day’s plans included the following: food, HBO, food, alcohol, horses, more alcohol, sports, beer, bars.

The food part went well: We walked across the bridge and visited Mama Bird’s office (because she has a real one with a door and a window!) and then picked up her car and drove back across the bridge to what I can only refer to as Hot Wing Heaven. This place has 1/3 of it’s entire menu devoted to wings and the various ways they will serve them. It was incredibly overwhelming, but eventually I chose some kind of blue-cheese-hot-sauce combination while Mama Bird went with a spicier version (I’m a wimp, I will admit it.) Then I ordered coffee. (Go ahead and judge. I have a caffeine addiction that apparently is so bad even the presence of buffalo wings cannot deter it. I will confirm, though, as if there was any doubt: Wings + Coffee = Bad Life Decision.)

After wings (and coffee) and gallons of Diet Coke, Mama Bird and I waddled into her apartment, collapsed on the couch, and watched 27 Dresses. At precisely 5pm, we began our preparations for the evening: strong drinks and a two-person fashion show. We watched the Kentucky Derby, didn’t win any money, made road sodas, and set off down the road for the Senators game (minor league baseball). At the game, Mama Bird and I sat in front row seats right next to first base and got to ogle the not-so-great ass of the probably 19-year-old first baseman. We also had the worst hotdogs ever made in the history of hotdogs (with no ketchup because the stadium ran out) and drank a giant cup of Bud Light with the best saying ever printed on it:

Best Cup Ever

Best Cup Ever

Then we met up with our friend L, did car bombs, and went on our way to the same Irish bar as Friday night. The 2-block-long journey there, however, was interrupted by a quick stop at an outdoor bar, where we judged girls in slutty outfits and got hit on by some guy with that weird little patch of hair on his bottom lip. When we made it to the Irish bar, the following events occurred:

11:45 – Red Headed Slut shots are consumed

11:47 – Miller Lite bottles are in hand

11:48 – Dancing around like the hotties idiots we are in front of the live band

11:57 – Some other kind of shot is consumed

11:57:48 – Mama Bird blacks out

12:00 – L and I push Mama Bird into a hottie Meat Head

12:02 – Mama Bird gives her card to Meat Head

12:02:07 – Mama Bird declares it is time to leave

Then we went back home with a giant cheese pizza, ate the entire thing between the three of us, and immediately passed out.

The next morning Mama Bird and Meat Head actually exchanged a few texts, during which he asked her out on a date, requested her facebook, friended her, and immediately ceased all communication (he was probably ugly anyway). Then we had giant omelets and watched Lifetime and I miraculously made it back to NYC in one piece.


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