Across the bridge and back at Carrol's Creek again, Ian, Newman and I white-table-clothed it for Ian's Birthday. I did not regret ordering the Scallops. To DIE for. A storm was drifting over Annapolis and we caught glimpses of the State House and sailboats as lightening illuminated the Severn River. I cursed my camera's decision to be on the fritz.
After dinner, we made a pit stop back at Ian's for what was supposed to be a quick cocktail while waiting for his sister Rachel before hitting the town, but were distracted by the sounds of a booming party a few streets over. Considering another crash after such tunes as Lady Marmalade and Applebottom Jeans, I thought we had nixed the idea assuming it was a 14 year old's summer celebration, (and besides, I didn't have my bathing suit handy) so I was surprised when on our walk to the bars Ian said we were going to make a pit stop to check out the soiree. Loitering at the top of the drive way, we spied a social gathering an average age of about 10-20 years our senior. Mid-game plan of attack, Ian advanced into the yard leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves. Would we be brave enough to join him? After about five minutes Rachel and I decided the time to hesitate was through and without further adieu, left Newman and joined the others. By this time Ian was in deep conversation with party goers who quickly took us in as his friend and told us to hit the bar, dance and mix and mingle. Approximately, 30 seconds later I was drinking a Jennytini out of a plastic cup that said "Jen's Forty!!!" in pink letters while talking to Keith, a 40 something insurance salesman. Rachel and I soon made our way to Jen to introduce ourselves and to Lisa who was throwing the party. They were pleased to have us. We were pleased to dance to Billie Jean after the DJ obliged our request. Eventually, Newman made it in and he was welcomed with open arms as well. These people rocked so much our little group barely hung out together we were so busy meeting and greeting. I can't wait to go back to Octoberfest. We won't be crashing this time because we all got the official invite for October 3rd. In the future, I'm only going to crash the bashes at the swanky homes of people with large salaries who have catered parties with hired bartenders and a tree house sweet enough to live in. Did I mention this house was insane????
My camera was blatantly declining to cooperate however I (sort of) snapped this shot of Jen getting her cake. (Of course we sang. We also participated in "pin the tattoo on Jen." If you're going to crash a party, you have to be festive and entertaining!)
As for the napkin:
Carrol's Creek (Ian's Birthday Observed Part II) 7/25/2009
One wrong move and your name becomes Bichard!
Newman: Can you fit more than one person in there?
Julie: It's not that kind of a chamber.
Julie: I'm not doing classy things back here.
Ian: Hell no! That's the night I lost my shoe! I fucking crazy hate it!
Rachel: There's a blog about Ian's life?
Newm: Yeah. Drunkenasshole.com
After many hugs and thanks, we finally ventured onto Fado. I recall dancing with a girl in a party dress and sunglasses. We met up with Jenkins. I may or may not have called a guy Edward Cullin for popping his collar so high it was touching the sides of his mouth. Not that it's OK if it only skims your cheek but still. It was sneaking into his mouth. He surely didn't look like Edward Cullin, but I suppose he looked a little vampirey. He heard my comment and didn't appreciate it but I didn't back down. I couldn't let it slide. I would have documented it with a picture if I could have but don't even get me started on that again. ( I might be a mean drunk) My last memory is of doing cartwheel in a hallway at the Westin and making Newman do one too. That's not true. I remember somebody drove us home.