After my Diaryland Rendezvous, I got to the opening reception about an hour late. It was sprinkling, so there wasn't that great of a turnout - most people had already headed inside to where the dinner was going to be.

Tom's flight wasn't getting in until 6pm, so I figured it was going to be awhile until I ran into him. I was hanging out with my New York buddies Matt and Rosemarie (Roe) over by the bar - naturally - and we were cracking jokes about South Carolina. Particularly about all of the critters. You can't take one step outside without getting eaten alive by swarms of bugs. And we're not just talking about mesquitos either. We're talking some Southern breed of insect called No-See-Ums. Seriously.

All of a sudden we hear this rustling in some bushes we were standing next to. I'm like, "Oh, there's probably a birdie. Where's the birdie?"

Uh, no. Not a birdie. A fucking rat. In the bushes. One foot from where I'm standing, at a $290 per night resort, at our fucking reception.

We burst out laughing. "Critter!!" It was perfect.

Now, as Heather pointed out in her recap, I didn't eat anything while the three of us had drinks earlier that afternoon, and at this point I was finding nothing edible at the reception either. It all smelled like it had been pulled out of the Mississippi River. (No one else seemed to have a problem with it - could've just been me, but whatever.) I was having to fill the void in my stomach my consuming more red wine.

Tom showed up with his doctor just about the time they said that dinner was being served inside. We said our quick, professional, no-there's-nothing-going-on hello's and headed indoors. Dinner was pretty uneventful, just a bunch of mingling and catching up with people I haven't seen in awhile. I was able to at least eat a little bit of chicken, but it still wasn't enough to balance out the amount of wine I was drinking.

Tom and I didn't really run in the same circles that night, and I wound up staying out with a group of guys until about 1:30am. Because of the bumblefuckness of the resort and the difficulty getting around, I didn't get home until about 2. This is when I made a tactical error.

I made a booty call.

Granted, it was the PG-13 version of a booty call, but a booty call nonetheless. I called Tom and asked him to come over.

I was so hammered that I was half asleep by the time he got there, but we did our little cuddly-kissy stuff and then promptly both passed out. I woke up about 6:30 when he was putting his shoes on, and the fucker didn't even set the clock back for me. I ended up being about twenty minutes late for the morning session of the meeting.

Time out.

I know what I did was wrong. I'm not happy with myself. Blah, blah, blah.... my own fault.

Anyway, the meeting ended at noon (which was a nice surprise because I thought it lasted all day), so while all the golfers went off to do their thing, Roe, Matt and I headed to the beach. Let me interject here that Matt and Roe are about as "New York" as they come. Simply hysterical. Matt is 26 year old big kid, with the body of a bouncer. we're walking along the paths to get to the beach, and all he could talk about was the critters we kept seeing. Except from his mouth it sounds like "crittah".

"Oh my Gahd, it's a Fuckin Crittah!" Hee!

Much to my delight we came across a field mouse, a turtle, some sort of water snake and an alligator, all in the span of about ten minutes. "Crittahs!"

I do have more to share, especially for Little Miss Impatient Pants (aka Des), but I need to run for now.

You know, my job and all. Heh.

feeling... I love the word "booty"
listening to... strange condition -- pete yorn
miss something?
goodbye my friend - 2005-04-29
out of the loop - 2005-04-09
a quest for clarity - part 1 - 2004-08-30
no plan for a sequel - 2004-08-27
slacker of the month - 2004-08-26