Weekend O' Woes Part III: The Reckoning

The other posts were waaay too long so I'll try to keep it short by using the method of free-association.

running late no hairdryer in hotel Lisa's annoying relatives ten people in one limo rented a bunny $500 limo to go to bunny party when they're broke everyone had to wear red Beverly Hills mansion party thrown by her boss over forty young women Lisa's co-workers "Therapists" HA! my ass drunk high school party not classy at all everyone stupid not interesting on weed baked out of their gourds and no one "real" at all party started at 7:30 but by 11:00 still no one had done any announcements, toasts, thanks or gifts we left in limo with Lisa's family who had to get back, too but they got mad we left early even though we were exhausted Hilton wonderful safe home cozy big pillows bunny then sleep:)

That was the party. Except mentioning the fact that they didn't serve the food until after 9:30 p.m., and the fact that Lisa forgot my name five times. Yes, FIVE (5) times. Everyone I've told this to says that there's no way she forgot it, that it's a control and dominance issue, but she is the most self-absorbed, self-centered person I've ever met in my life, so it could go either way.

So, we wake up the next day and Ian's flight is supposed to leave at 12:30. But, we have been invited to breakfast at Ernest and Lisa's apartment. By the time we shower, pack, get the car out of parking and check out of the hotel, it's after 10. We're on the way over to the apt. when Ian gets a call from Ernest. "Hey, uh, could you pick some stuff up at the grocery store that we forgot for brunch?" "Sure, what do you need?" "avacados, milk, bottled water, muffins, bread and juice." Ian politely declined since he had to check the rental back in before his flight left, and we went over for a "brunch" of instant oatmeal and eggs. Mmm, mmm good. Lisa forgot my name again at brunch, and her mom and sister invited themselves to Ian and my wedding in May. Again--classy.

By the time we finished, it was getting really late, and yet Ernest was strong-arming Ian into staying later and changing his flight. I chimed in because I didn't want to be left alone until 8 p.m. with Lisa, and between us we convinced him to change his flight. Bad thing was, he bought it on Hotwire, making it completely non-transferable or refundable. Ian actually cut his losses and purchased a separate, one-way ticket on my flight back. Trip budget is now exceeding our month's rent and utilities. Fan-friggin'-Tastic!

The best part of the weekend was the lovely afternoon Ian and I had Sunday. Lisa had to work and Ernest was hung over (they rolled in at about 4 a.m.) and wanted to sleep, so he let us take his motorcycle (I'm not a gearhead all I know is it was about 650 ccs? and a Yamaha of some sort, black and shiny) and we went to Venice Beach and Santa Monica. I haven't been on a motorcycle proper before, and it was the best feeling ever. I'm completely hooked. The sun shone, we did fun things and I loved it.

We only had to see Lisa and Ernest for about half an hour when we returned, just before leaving for our flight, at dinner, during which Ernest suggested Ian take a copy of this self-help book he's been reading, and Ian politely declined.

So all's well that ends well, eh?