Thursday, October 20, 2005

Girls, Girls, Girls

Maliavale and I started off the day with a jaunt to Georgetown, in which my "you will have new clothes" fortune finally came true. And it's nothing cropped, nor does it need a camisole. I also found the funniest Christmas cards, hilarious and appropriate birthday cards for two people and a stamp with an "r" on it, for the first letter of our last name. This is so we can make our bills and personal correspondence all fancy-like. Although there was one stamp that said "with deepest sympathy" that I wanted to get to put on our bills instead. I think I need to start doing this: putting random and inappropriate messages in with our bills. At least I would laugh more when I mail them instead of cry.

After shopping, we went to the hotel of Jurgen Nation (Jurgen Nation does not get diplomatic plates, sorry), and promptly went into the bar for a drink. Maliavale wondered if Jurgen would have a "man voice," and what if it's really awkward all night because of this? Would we be able to keep a straight face? Maybe if she didn't have a man voice, she might have man hands, which could be just as bad. I noted that we've seen her hands in pictures, but we don't know for sure that she doesn't have man feet. At 5:13 (5:15 on the nose is waaaay too desperate), I called Jurgen and she gave us her room number. She does not have a man voice. Relieved sighs all around.

She does, however, have a really cute Midwestern accent and says things like "paaap" and "maaam." After making sure Jurgen doesn't have man feet, either (she doesn't), the three of us went over to a really yummy Mexican restaurant, which is the same one I missed last week when my tire crapped out on me. In a display of our commitment to drink and be merry, we ordered a pitcher of swirl margaritas. Note how they have a heavenly glow (above). These are your-chosen-deity-approved margaritas.

Jurgen then called Kris and, in her best, most scarily convincing man voice, asked her what she was wearing. She told her and Kim to meet us at a pool hall down the street.


Once the gang was assembled and introductions had been made, we got down to business. Kris came in with some story about how she had been having a conversation with a cab driver, and that's why she had been held up a little. But I just checked her blog, and the real story is that apparently she was stuffing a body in her freezer. I wish I had known this last night, because I want to know where I can get a freezer that big.

Kris whipped out her hairspray and we had a Bang-Off Two: Electric Hair Boogaloo. Jurgen's reign was short, because Kim just whupped her ass, and I think she may have underestimated her competition. Hey, it's a common problem. You get too cocky, and someone just comes along and knocks you out. You'll always be the first Bang-Off winner, Jurgen. No one ever forgets the first!

Jurgen, Maliavale, Moi. On his way out of the place a few hours later, a guy came over and thanked us all for the drinks we sent over. "Huh? We didn't send any drinks!" "But, congratulations!" I said. Then we all decided that had we sent them drinks, that was mighty rude of them to not acknowledge them sooner, and see if we buy you any drinks next time, assholes. We met a sweet guy named Richmond, a resident of the 9th Ward in New Orleans. He was all smiles and gratitude for his life and family, unsure of what his next step was going to be. But he wants to go back. I hope he is able to.

Maliavale, Jurgen Nation, Kris, Me, Kim. When are we doing this again? Wait, perhaps I should wait for the hangover to die off a little before we discuss that.