Long weekend.

Always love a long weekend. Those spectaclura days off from work. Doing a lot of work around the bed when you'd usually be sitting in traffic. All good.

The weekend started a bit early, as I took half a day Friday so that I could move my HD-a-riffic monstrosity of a TV from Weymouth to Medford. Right in time for football season. Of course the best laid plans, yadda yadda. Brian was supposed to be my hired muscle fot the day, but ended up not being able to make it for personal reasons. So that left me with a half day with nothing to do, which I found better spent doing exactly that: nothing.

Friday night: drinks abound at the Pourhouse.

Saturday: Cookout prep day. Down to the folks house to buy much more stuff than I'll actually need, as per usual. Just for the record: BJs on a Saturday afternoon? New Orleans probably has more order going on than that. Jesus Fucking Madhouse! But much meat and and chips and other things were purchased. Followed by the supermarket for those things I didn't need in bulk. Limes for the Coronas are necessary; 2 dozen limes, not so much.

Saturday night: drinks abound at Kellys Landing. Paul's going away evening. He's back to the benthic. Back to the high seas. Later, Fish. Do NOT rock out with your cock out. Doesn't seem like the best idea on a ship full of men.

Sunday: Big day. Cookout time. More prep. Hours of making food. Slaving over a hot stove. And grill. And yum, food. Beer. Etc. Allison walked in, saw all the chairs I had set up and asked me if it was a joke. Didn't mean it to be, but the turn out was pretty small based on how many I invited. But a good time was had. By all, I hope. Drinking also abounded.

Sunday night: Post cookout, I ended up back at the Pourhouse with, you guessed it, drinks. Not safe to drive, so I let Dave have the wheel. And the brake and gas pedal. And the not killing us on the ride home, which is something I could not have promised, had I driven.

Funny story. Later on, I wake up and think, "Damn, I fell asleep with my sneakers on. Start to flip them off, finally open my eyes, and think, "Why am I at Matt and Dave's apartment?" I remember the ride there, but not passing out on their couch. But I really did drink a lot. More than usual. Mother of all hangovers today, and mom was feeling bitchy, let me tell you.

Which of course made today the ideal day to.....move my TV! Nothing is better for a hangover then lifting a 170 pound TV and carrying it. And then re-attaching a gazillion wires and cables for DVD, VCR, XBox, PS2, receiver, speakers CD player, tape player, and cable box. Despite my loathing for emoticaons, if I could interject a sarcasticon here, I would. As there are many thing better for a hangover, chiefly remaining in bed. But no, TV moving needed to occur, since there's only a few more days until football starts. Matt helped out, and thank god. Because did I mention, that TV is heavy! Anyway, we got everything in. Nothing and no one broken. All set up. Looks awesome. It was also the catalyst for Sara to clean up our porch a little. The porch looks badass now. Very sexy little room that porch. I'd make sweet sweet love to it.

Anyway, bed soon. Sleep coming. Must not fight. Must surrender to sleep.

Next 10 days? Got the apartment to myself. Awesome! What will abound? No, not drinking, you lushes. Roman orgies!