Ok... So it's been a bit. And since this blog is supposed to be my inner word vomit, here goes.

This weekend was, to use a mundane word, fun. Friday night a grad school buddy had a Bring-Your-Own-BBQ in honor of Team Hot. (What is Team Hot you ask? Well, Team Hot is the fall soccer league team that a few of us are playing in starting September. If you've ever met me, you know that I'm not the worlds most sporty-athletic person so stay tuned for updates on how that's working out for me! ). The BBQ was a good time--had some food, some beers, some good company. Saturday was another grad school buddy's birthday and going away party. There was, to quote a Kenny Chesney song, a keg in the closet. Had an absolute blast--birthday boy got drunk and started accosting random co-ed body parts, had some fun personal hygiene maintenance discussions, came home at 3 a.m. And there's where the fun stopped.

A note about my Ex: he apparently has a keen radar that can detect when I am at my most happiest cause that's when he ALWAYS calls and squashes any feelings of rainbows and sunshine that I'm experiencing. And that's exactly what he did: called, b*tched, made my drunken self cry. However, I am proud that I told him to just hurry up and get to Florida so I never have to see him again. So there!

Sunday night the man that I wish would wake up and realize how perfect I am for him called and wanted to get together. This is always an event and always involves a sleep over of the most G-Rated kind because he lives an hour and a half away. Sidenote: I've loved this boy since I met him my sophomore year of college, which was 8 years ago now. We've been friends, and by friends I mean emailing, talkin' on the phone, hangin' out friends, for about six years now. ANYWHO... As I am a bit frazzled by living in a studio with my sister (various reasons: its too small a space for two people, she's always on the phone, I come home late and wake her up when she's got to be to work early... blah blah blah) I decided what the heck. Let me tell you, getting there is half the battle.

I'm humming along on the road, thinking I'm making excellent time since it's only taken me an hour to get more than 2/3 of the way there when the sky goes ink black and the heavens assail me with a deluge of Biblical proportions. I can't see a blessed thing and honestly think that I'm going to die... for about 15 minutes. Then as mysteriously as the storm came upon us weary I-90 pilgrims, it disappeared. Poof!

The rest the night was much more uneventful. Mr. Perfect was beat from a road race so we watched TV and went to bed.

Over all, one of the more delightful weekends I've had recently.