The Weekend Edition

For the first time in three or four weeks, I had a rather action packed weekend. Of course, given that it was 4th of July weekend, that was to be expected. This was even a little bigger than usual, even though it was quite all over the place. What happened?

• Moose's Tooth dinner with Amy, Cate, Eric, Hannah and Jason
• The Wailers at Moose's Tooth on a beautiful night with Amy, Cate and Eric
• Downtown partying with Amy and Eric
• Forest Fair and the drive heard round the world with Amy, Cate and Eric (the Dome Dance, Akon, Trip Van Palin, and other such vagary)
• Dinner at Fire Tap for Jon's birthday
• Going out with the Crewnit to the Shed, and then dance party plus with everyone at Rum Runners
• Going to see the Brothers Bloom and Whatever Works at Fireweed (reviews coming...but $6 for two movies total? Awesome)
• Going to Big Lake for Amy with boating and fun in the sun
• Partying down in Big Lake with Amy, Cate and Darren

Cate, Eric, Amy and I at Moose's Tooth during the Wailers

So yeah, the weekend was an out and out success. I had an unbelievable amount of fun, the sun was out all of the time and the weather was gorgeous, and everything was exactly what I wanted it to be. Well, except one thing, which was in its own way awesome. It was the world's best terrible party ever.

As we were on the lake, we wanted to go check out some parties and our friend Eric was at a party thrown by the Dubinsky family, in particular Brandon (the New York Ranger). It was quite possibly the single worst party that has ever existed. Every person looked like a model of some sort and seemed to have the intelligence level often associated with that occupation (not to mention the fact that they were the least friendly people). I half expected one of them to come up and deck me in the face and yell "welcome to the OC, bitch!" Thankfully, I realized that not a single one of them was clever enough to live up to the brilliant writing displayed on television's the OC, nor were they likely to be sober enough to successfully make contact.

Really, it just seemed like such a surreal situation, as if I stepped into an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue, with every person at the party having the depth of one of the pictures on each page. Thankfully, it provided my friends and I entertainment for the next while, and made me realize that money and fame may give you a lot of things, but it doesn't give you a personality or good friends. Suck on that, New York Rangers.