And where the hell have I been?

Answer: Driving around in the back of a tiny Volkswagon with a ferocious hangover, towards the ends of buying bacon and witnessing an old friend's wedding.

That's pretty much it.

I don't know why, but I chose to start off my long holiday weekend by staying up until 5am drinking with the Greeks on friday night....er, Saturday morning, rather. So after being woken up subliminally by angry messages from the 'Bones, which I sensed were festering on my voice mail, I had approximately 75 seconds to dress myself & make coffee, and then drive nearly 5 hours to this place, home of the best bacon I've ever had the pleasure to shove into my craw. Seriously, it was torturous, but so worth it. Even though we basically drove all the way to my Dad's house in Saratoga, with my piss being timed and held perfectly at the ready, the 'Bones then surprises me by CONTINUING TO DRIVE an additional hour to get our pork on. Damn.

After finally arriving at the home of our Patriarch, my family immediately opens up beers; I choke down the bile which had crept into my throat, and excuse myself for more torture: a 2 mile run. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. But things just went downhill from there. It was a blur for the next 48 hours; there was drinking, there was youtube (my father's favorite new toy), there was lots of food, there were friends around that I hadn't seen in 4 or 5 years, there were people whose names I forgot, drinks I spilled on people/various pieces of furniture, and still a few more people whom I didn't even get a chance to see, and a severely painful mountain biking experience.

All in all, the wedding was dope, as far as weddings go. I am ALWAYS apprehensive going to a wedding, I know not why; but I always end up having shitloads of good times at them. This was certainly no exception. Timmy's rendition of "Easy Like Sunday Morning" during the reception was hands-down his best performance to date. I only pray that his tender vocal chords stay in condition for the next 60 years, in the unlikely event that I someday go through with such a ceremony myself. Extraordinarily unlikely.

I leave you with an appropriately blurry and red-faced photo of 'Wrence and the 'Bones, which pretty much says it all.



On to next weekend, where the talk around town (at least around the general 6-inch area surrounding me) is of home made sausages on the grille


And Russo, if you're reading this: Mother Fuckin Cheers Bro

'Wrence