I took my first trip to Boston, MA, after the wedding in Oct.
The following happened in 72 hours:
I was greeted by three waitresses and a hostess at Absinthe, all of whom were getting crazy to Idol's "White Wedding".
"I can't drink because I'm on antibiotics," said the Red Sox fan who was eating take-out soup at The Bean (local's pub).
A toddler sitting next to me on the T puked on herself. A lot.
At the Salem Witch Trials Wax Museum, a wax dummy with unfortunate hand placement appeared to be scratching his wax crabs.
Hezzah, my hostess, and I (sort of) stalked a long-haired strawberry-blond man, lured to potential arrest for assault by the siren call of his shiny locks (it was so just so damn pretty, you'd want to pet it).
At Salem Beer Works, I drank beer with blueberries in it and ate some damn tasty fish n' chips.
When we went to pick it up, the Zip Car we rented for a booze/grocery run was already badly dented. The interior smell and distance between the seats and the dashboard indicated two large chain-smoking dudes had been the ones playing hit-and-run.
At Hezzah's Halloween party, I met Fannie Mae busting a move in the kitchen:
We ate a 13" x 9" pan of seven-layer bean dip and watched awkward porn.
Sorry, I'm not embedding THAT video, but let's just say it made me go "What, What?!" (in the butt):
And the last thought I verbalized before keeling over?
"Huh. Those dudes were as hairless as the women."
