2 Dead Presidents = 1 Long Weekend

Presidents' Day weekend and at long last. . .visitors from Northern Virginia! Eileen and Molly drove down after school on Friday and spent the long weekend with me. We hung out in Norfolk on Friday night and then headed down to Corolla on Saturday afternoon. I greeted them with sangria and cheese dip, which we enjoyed while consulting the tarot cards. Although Molly was hoping for some indication that a rich Southern lawyer was about to enter her life, instead she got a lot of crap about loss and hardship. But it’s February, a month of loss and hardship. I’m sure her rich Southern lawyer is due in like March, or maybe April at the very latest.

After sangria and tarot cards we walked across the street to Colley Cantina (of course) for food and margaritas. Once we had a good buzz going we met up with Dave, Steve & Jen, Jess & Rob, and others at O’Sullivan’s to see everyone’s favorite local cover band Lovesick Cousin. (Lovesick Cousin was recently voted “Best Local COUNTRY Band” by readers of Port Folio Weekly, our alternative newspaper, but they’re really not a country band. And Steve’s really not in love with their lead singer.) Anyway, the alcohol flowed freely, Lovesick Cousin was fun as usual, Molly & Eileen got to meet Dave, and I got to meet a few of Dave’s friends.

Saturday morning Molly, Eileen, and I had breakfast at the Donut Dinette down the street, which is a pretty cool little diner if you’re not a vegetarian, or even if you ARE a vegetarian but can somehow comes to terms with the fact that everything you eat there tastes like bacon because, well, it’s fried in bacon grease. After our bacon breakfast we drove down to Corolla, stopping only to pick up crabmeat and booze. We lay around chatting all afternoon Saturday, then we showered and got ready for a wild and crazy night! Actually, no. . .we showered and immediately put on our pajamas. I made my slightly famous crabcakes (bacon grease-free!) and we drank a LOT of champagne and wine amidst girl-talk. Topics discussed: boys, sex, birth control, (not to be confused with) abortion, the status of women, motherhood vs. career, and probably some others that I can’t quite remember because, quite frankly, at some point I became drunk.

Sunday we did a little shopping, walked up to the beach for a bit (well, Eileen didn’t because it was 34° and she’s a candy-ass), played the question and answer (but not the moving pieces or keeping score) part of Trivial Pursuit, and watched Garden State. . . all while drinking sub-par bloody marys. (Now, technically there was nothing wrong with these particular bloody marys, but Dave makes his very own kick-ass bloody mary mix and I’ve grown quite spoiled by his bloody marys.) Garden State is a pretty funny movie, but the funniest part for us was cracking the 4 digit parental control password Brian had for some reason set up on the DVD player. Eileen tried 0000 -- no dice. Molly suggested 1212 -- still no luck. I said, "Hmmm. . .try 0420" -- BINGO! We laughed for a good five minutes over the irony of setting your parental control password to the secret code for marijuana use.

We had big plans to hit up Metropolis for drinks and dinner, but alas, it was mysteriously closed and we got stuck at Northbanks, which was the only place open in Corolla, unless you count Sundawgs (and I don’t). We made it home in time for Eileen and Molly’s Sunday night shows: Desperate Housewives (which I myself was WAY into last year) and Grey’s Anatomy (which, according to just about everyone I know, is the best show on television). I think I managed not to get hooked on either, which is good considering I don’t own a television, although I must admit I’m a little tempted by Grey’s Anatomy (but not tempted enough to get a TV).

We rose at the crack of dawn (really, 6:30!) on Monday morning to find snow on the ground and snow still falling. We were on the road by 7:15 in the hopes of having Eileen and Molly home by 1:00. Sadly, it was not meant to be. . .we arrived in Norfolk to find Eileen’s battery dead and her car surrounded by other cars, which prevented any type of jumper cable action. See, this is where I fault the tarot cards: instead of (or perhaps in addition to) telling us all that stuff about loss and hardship (Molly), being at a crossroads and having your hard work pay off (Eileen), or trusting your intuition and following your heart (me), they might have reminded Eileen that she left her damn dome light on. Alas, I suppose tarot cards deal exclusively with weighty matters.

Despite the crappy ending, it was the best girls weekend I’ve had since mine and Nisha’s birthdays at the beginning of October. Photographic evidence: