support the troops

You know it's going to be a good weekend when you kick it off with a good C-List celebrity sighting. On the way to purchase Advil (it was Friday) before heading down to Soho for Perplexa's birthday dinner at Balthazar, I found myself face to face with none other than Elisabeth Hasselback Filarski, of Survivor, The Look for Less, The View, and Republican National Convention fame. This supposed style maven was wearing the exact same clunky Frye boots as I've been wearing into the ground for the last couple years, only she was sporting hers over her jeans, Ugg-style. In a few words, oh honey no.

The next morning I arose nice and early to hitch a ride to Boston with a taller, blonder, and crazier crew friend. The drinking commenced immediately upon our arrival six hours later (there were a few accidental highway exits and a pit stop at the ex-boyfriend's house (surprise, ex-bf's parents!) along the way.) Ever the competitor, I insisted on keeping up with her one Red Stripe every ten minutes pace, which resulted in a couple of puking incidents at bars later on and us getting hopelessly lost in Cambridge when stumbling home from a bar approximately two blocks from where we were staying. Where are the numbered streets that are not all crooked and full of dead ends?

Somehow I survived to see another day, which turned out to be a little on the cold and miserable side, but it wouldn't be a proper crew race any other way. I got to see my favorite light blue boys and girls race, pet tons and tons of dogs and puppies, and harrass some jackass carrying a Bush/Cheney sign whose ass TBC pretended to bite as I took a picture, and as he turned around to ask what was wrong with us. Heh. Time to drink again! We curled up on the couch at TBC's friend's apartment to watch some TV and drink some White Russians. If your cable lineup includes the Travel Channel, I suggest you watch the show Million Dollar Boats. Nothing like an overtanned, oversteroided man wearing nothing but a leather vest commanding a 150 mph speedboat called The Love Muscle to brighten your day. Drinking continued well into the night at the official regatta after party, which was a big mess of drunk sweaty athletes and a couple drunk but not as sweaty former athletes getting stuck in an elevator and climbing over a waist high pile of furniture to escape.

The ride home on Monday necessitated so much caffeine and water that we took about six pee pit stops, but the drive was lovely. I'm not a big Connecticut fan, mostly because I'm just jealous of all the rich people, but I must say the Merritt Parkway is gorgeous, especially on a sunny fall day. And now it's back to work and my head still feels a little funny, and I need another weekend to recover from my weekend.