Fun with numbers: my weekend in SDiego

I went down to SD just for the weekend to visit Liz, of delicious cookie fame, and as an added bonus Beebs was in town visiting her sister so Veeve and Freds drove up as well for one special Saturday night. Unrelated, Liz and I were discussing the James Frey novels yesterday, he’s that dude that got in trouble for exaggerating in his non-fiction works. Liz and I decided we could care less and in my opinion all he was doing was using a little hyperbole to spice things up and make a better story. B/c which gets more pity if I’m telling you how cold it is during a DC winter “Shit, it’s like 34 here!” Or: “Damn, it’s seriously negative one thousand degrees!” And which makes you hurry out to the curb faster when I’m coming to pick up you: me being 8 blocks away, or me being 1 block away? Right. You see now don’t you. Not that hyperbole has anything to do with SDiego. Anyway, so some numbers from the weekend:

10: Number of vodka rocks it would’ve taken me to get me to stay at Shout House, God-awful piano bar filled with smelly, overweight Red Sox fans for >20 minutes.

23ish: Number of men standing around the dance floor looking very creepy and not dancing at bar #2.

1: Number of certified pedophiles looking VERY creepy and not dancing at bar #2.

17: Number of times Veeve talked to herself about how fantastic it was to have her camera with her.

98: Number of pics Veeve took on Sat night.

2: Number of pics of Freds’ ass we have, after Fred mooned the Gaslamp District.

1: Number of times Freds lifted up my dress to expose my ass to the Gaslamp Distict.

13: Number of profanities that Freds’ lifting up my dress elicited from my mouth.

23: Number of times I tripped over said dress, my own dress.

2: Number of times a guy told me: “That’s a great dress. I’m NOT hitting on you. I just really like your dress.” Thanks for the honesty.

5: Number of girls we tried to fit into a rickshaw. Denied.

1 million: Number of times someone made fun of my voice in SDiego.

Only 1: Number of times Veeve got so mad at someone for making fun of my voice that she screamed at them about my nodules.

4: Number of disgusting jalepeno poppers I ate at the end of the evening.

65: Number of times Liz and I whined about missing Pizza Mart.

38: Number of times I said “what it is?” or “what it do?” I laughed every time. I’m still laughing. I’m laughing right now. What it do?

16: Number of numbers I did before I got bored of this game.

So then. I watched Goodfellas tonight. As Soprano’s is done and I needed some final Jason and Warren tv-watching time so that was our pick. On my way out we discussed what was going on this week. Pretty much nothing is going on. We discussed brunching one day. It must be later than 11 or so b/c that is about when I wake up these days but can’t start any later than noon b/c that would throw Warren off of his napping schedule.

That is pretty much pathetic.