One of my friends, who I'll refer to as Teacher, said her goal this past weekend was to do something noteworthy that would make it into my blog.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's do a Cliffs Notes version of a Weekend Update, in which I drove across Pennsylvania for my annual get-together with some college friends (here's what happened last year).
- I almost hit a coyote on the turnpike on my way over. At first, I thought it was a dog. While slowing down, I thought it was a wolf, but the ACME rocket and lack of a brooding Robert Pattinson nearby gave it away. Fortunately, nobody hit it, and it scampered back into the woods.
- Unlike the past few years, when we either all stayed at a hotel or just made it a day trip, we stayed at someone's house this time. This was made possible because they own a house. Which leads me to the next point:
- Eight of us got together: Three married couples and then one girl (who I'll refer to as No. 1) and myself. No. 1 and I spent most of the weekend teasing the married couples about their "relationship stability" and their "plans for having babies at some point soon." Which leads me to the next point:
- Teacher (Hey, you did it!) pointed out there is a magazine made just for people trying to conceive: The Bump. Sample community forum post: "Is it OK to force myself upon my DH? ... +OPK this AM, -OPK this PM." I have no idea what that means, beyond possible husband rape
- While I wish all of my friends best of luck in their birth control-free lovemaking, an entire magazine dedicated to making babies blows my mind. Not because conceiving is easy- some of you have blogged about how very difficult it can be - but because I'd think it would just make all the women much more neurotic and stressed.
- I love the phrase "trying to get pregnant." It's like church people one day decided they wanted to pray for young married couples who wanted to start a family, but didn't want to actually say the word "sex" in church. I wonder if Mary's parents said "God and Mary are trying to get pregnant."
- We all played a fun, cynical game called "Engaged, Married, Divorced, Baby," where we tried to update on the gossip of former classmates. As I don't fit in one of those categories, I spent the game in purgatory.
- Since we didn't have to go anywhere Friday night, we sat around a campfire and drank Arbor Mist and margaritas and smoked Swisher Sweets. I think I won for the most consumed on all three counts. Unfortunately, I discovered later there was neither a competition or a ribbon for the winner. And that I evidently drink and smoke like an elderly gay man.
- No. 1 and I were asked to speak to journalism students about our careers in journalism. We advised them to get into P.R.
- I stabbed a hobo.
- Just making sure you're still reading. Anyway, the college's campus has been ridiculously updated, with a new fitness center, dorms, etc ... which is funny, because I keep getting letters in the mail asking for donations. I refuse to do so until I have enough money to get something named after me. Like a urinal. Or a snow cone machine.
- Staying up past midnight two nights in a row nearly killed us all.
P.S. The Daring Domesticate and her husband were our hosts for the weekend; check out her blog ... Also, a reminder: If you include your e-mail address when you make comments, I promise to personally respond.