The Fine Art of Contradiction
The weekend began when I slipped on my new animal printed, silk, Pradas and a small black mini-dress. I met Suave, BG, and the Pea at the metro, and we walked on the mall from the Smithsonian stop to the Hirschhorn... while drinking disgusting Chardonnay nips of wine that the Pea stashed in her purse.
Adequately buzzed, we were glad to have taken Sassy's advice and gotten there before 8pm with pre-ordered tickets waiting for us at will call. Poor BG was stuck in line for a good 30 minutes, and we were later told Ari's friend couldn't get in because the tickets were sold out.
The cash bar was extraordinarily overpriced, but, of course, that didn't keep me from purchasing four $6 wine tickets. I managed to spill two of them. That's a record for me. Then I met an artist, a sculptor from the area, who showed me some of his amazing metal structures in picture form and gave me his business card. I'm supposed to email him about hanging out with some local artists. I'd so love that.
We left and met the Master and company at the Big Hunt where a birthday party was winding down. I was in Pradas, a mink, and a mini-dress in the Big Hunt and managed about one drink before I checked out for the night.
Saturday morning, I don't want to discuss. I had one Hell of a morning. I gave up about the time that I got to Shamrock Fest and realized I forgot my ATM card and ticket.
But, Suave convinced me to put on my Walmart's best Trailer Trash Throwdown costume which consisted of an overall mini-dress, Dodge trucker's cap, and zebra-print earrings. We met up at Suave's and proceeded to shotgun beers and finish a bottle of wine before cabbing to District Belle and Sassy's place on Capital Hill. From here, I'll just share with you some pictures:
Proper signage is a must at any fancy soiree. A sign in the bathroom told us to turn off the lights so that the girls could "Afferd" rent (since they obviously fictionally flunked spelling).
What a dinner I had! Sassy's friend deep fried some Slim Jims into delicious heart attack bites. Oh, and I forgot how yummy Cheese Whiz on Ritz can be.
Lynard Skynard and Nascar-themed decorations added to the Trailer Trash feel.
It was funny to see how everyone dressed as trashy is defined in their hometown. Southern trash vs. Michigan trash vs. Arizona trash. Above, we attempt to come up with a new ad campaign for Funyuns. "Bring the Carnies to snack time!"
Peter, Ralph, and the Lost Boys met us at the party. I followed them back, in the rain, to get to the Union Station Metro. A detour to Irish Times seemed like a swell idea until I realized I was the only one dressed as Trailer Trash. I'd left the Walmart price tag on my jumper for effect, and in the bathroom, a girl pointed out, "Oh, sweetie, you've left the price tag on your jumper." It wasn't as clear, apparently, that I was in costume. That was a tad embarrassing. So was being groped by about 20 men in the bar. Do I look like the type of girl who'd go home with you at 1am after Shamrock Fest? Oh, yeah, I did.
That's all folks. Hope you had a good weekend too!