Back in the 413

Why is it that whenever I'm in my truck with Jon, we have to be crammed in with a girl and hurtling somewhere outrageous?
This weekend was the 26th birthday party of an old college chum, Mr. Lou Dawg. I thought it was his 25th birthday because of all the foo-fur-ah surrounding it, but I respect the fact that he was willing to throw a large party in his own honor on a year that's essentially meaningless. Well maybe it's not so meaningless if you consider it the 10th anniversary of his decadent Sweet Sixteen party. (Oh what an affair that was, Nate Dawg really stole the show in his ornate Chanel gown, set off with Mikimoto pearls and a casually elegant "up-do." I digress...)
This weekend's party was a smashing success, lots of drinking and debauchery, reminiscing and re-connecting. In fact, we had such a good time that Nicole ended up delaying her bus trip back to New York so we could go to another party the next night. It was really good to see these guys, some of whom I hadn't hung out with since before Wisconsin. And another thing: even though I have most things I want right now (love, money, tasty snacks), I do not have enough guy friends in Boston. So it was refreshing to hoot and holler a little with tha boyz.
A few highlights:
-Even though Saturday's party promised a huge spread of barbecued food and accessories, me, John and Nicole could not resist. Less than one hour away from Lou's house, we stopped at Boston Market and had a picnic feast on a grassy median strip. Garlic roasted rotisserie chicken, real mashed potatoes (not the lame-o whipped cotton candy KFC kind) and country gravy, creamy spinach, baked mac and cheese and cornbread. Needless to say, we weren't crestfallen that we had no appetite later for hockey puck burger patties and rancid pasta salad on a limp bed of former lettuce.
-At about 2 a.m., a kid came stumbling into the backyard, bleeding profusely from a gash in his head. He told us not to let anyone else in the party, especially the five guys who just beat him bloody. Sure thing, pal.
-My favorite story from the weekend came from when Nicole and I were leaving the party on Saturday night and we heard someone following us out. It was the birthday boy himself, with a pen and paper in hand, looking to grab some digits. As he starts to take down Nicole's number, we have a little conversation:
Lou: So your girlfriend left pretty early, eh Jesse?
Jesse: No you're actually getting her phone # right now.
Lou: Nah dude, Desiree is your girlfriend.
Jesse: No I'm pretty sure my girlfriend is Nicole.
Then there was a very long pause when Louie realized he was trying to pick up my girlfriend right in front of me. Nicole and I tried to relieve the awkward moment by suggesting it was perfectly acceptable for him to call her when he's in New York, maybe they could go to a Rodney Dangerfield film festival or something. We felt bad because Lou's a pretty good guy and he obviously felt like a heel. At the same time, what a hilarious move.