In Which We Go to Boston

L. and I tried to hit the road pre-rush hour on Friday (have you SEEN the Mass Pike during rush hour?), but to little avail, so we didn't end up getting into Boston until about 7:30pm. That, combined with the fact that though I could navigate that little city with its little T structure with my eyes closed, we cannot for our lives drive in it. THIS is my biggest problem with East Coast cities, as compared to the bounteous beauty that is LA. These cities weren't built for cars, and as a result, are completely un-user friendly. Everything is a one way. And half the one ways are closed, anyway.

/rant.

So. In the car we had texted D.H. asking if we could pretty please make reservations for Fire and Ice, our favorite restaurant to hit up when we're in the city. He knew we were getting in late but had said he'd eat dinner with us, though he had a work drinks thing at 6:30. But he responded that he wasn't going to be able to eat dinner since they were getting appetizers at his work thing, so we should just go there. Which was fine...except for the fact that a. we were completely starving, and b. we didn't know any of his coworkers/knew it would be super awkward. And c., I didn't feel right about our food getting charged to their table's tab, which would of course then be expensed. So we got in, grabbed D.H.'s keys to drop our stuff in his apartment, and then decided we'd do dinner on our own, so we could try to eat real, healthy food, and to avoid the awkwardness of a table filled with 12 or so people we didn't know.

L. and I just went to Brownstone, the cute Back Bay restaurant that D.H. took me to last time I was in the city. It's so good, and it was close, since D.H.'s work thing was on the same street, anyway. The work happy hour was already a little silly, so we decided it'd be best for us to try to catch up at dinner. I ordered a Kentucky Lemonade, which was probably the best thing I've ever had in my life, maybe even better than my newfound love for gin and lemonade.

After dinner, L. and I walked back to the bar to meet up with D.H., and his roommate, Tennis Guy. Even though he introduced us to all his work friends we were still, obviously, feeling pretty awkward, but then he informed us that in about an hour the dance floor downstairs would open up. YES and also yes. L. and I LOVE to dance, so we were highly anticipating that. In the meantime, the boys did Jaeger bombs (of course they did) and I kept it classy by ordering a Manhattan, which is definitely an acquired taste, but delicious nonetheless. Then I kept it totally un-classy and ordered a frozen margarita, which probably had more calories than my dinner, but was delicious nonetheless.

The dance floor finally opened up, and everyone essentially stampeded downstairs to get down there. This bar is out of control. It's the same one that D.H. and I watched the Celtics-Lakers game at a couple months ago, and it has not one, not two, but THREE fully-stocked bars in it. Including the one on the dance floor. Unfortunately, I had left my card open at one of the upstairs bars, so we danced for awhile, but then I decided I had better go up and get my card before I forgot about it later. I ran upstairs, cashed out my tab, and attempted to go back downstairs. The following is an accurate portrayal of the situation:

Me: Try to walk downstairs.
Bouncer: Uh, excuse me, you'll have to go to the back of the line.
Me: (Noticing there is, in fact, a line.) Oh, no, I'm sorry. I was actually already down there, I just ran upstairs to grab my card from the bar.
Bouncer: (Arm does not move from the stairs). Sorry. Back of the line.
Me: (Beginning to get upset). But, I was ALREADY down there. I ran upstairs for two seconds. Everyone I know in this bar is down there.
Bouncer: Back of the line. (Do you see a pattern here?)

Now, I am the sweetest person you will probably ever meet. It's true- ask anyone. And I'm pretty terrible with confrontation. But if I feel like I've been wronged, or if someone screws me over, then I will lose any trace of pleasantness. It's just not cool to let people walk all over you. Granted, this guy was probably just doing his job. But I HAD ALREADY BEEN DOWN THERE. I fumed and huffed and puffed, alone in line, and texted the boys that I was stranded. D.H. and L. ran up the stairs to try to get me, but the bouncer told them if they walked up the stairs, they would be stuck up there too. I told them to go back downstairs and have fun. The guy standing in front of me turned around to look at me, and I figured it was because I was being super obnoxious. But instead he smiled and said that the exact same thing had happened to him, and everyone he knew was down there too, and he was equally miffed. And when we finally got to the front of the line, he let me go in front of him. How nice is that? Always bond with other people who are in equally yucky situations with you!

Back downstairs, the fun was kind of killed for me, and it was already slipping into the wee hours of Saturday morning anyway, so the boys and L. and I decided we should just head back to the apartment. But not, of course, before I stopped at the store and bought a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cookies and Milk. (My judgment was clearly flawed- I had been so good all week!!). But then D.H. and L. decided they needed to run to D.H.'s office, which was just down the street, to grab Forgetting Sarah Marshall so we could watch it. Well, obviously. So Tennis Guy and I walked back to the apartment while the boys did that, and had glasses of water and had a nice chat. See, TG and I are quite the same when we drink: we stay almost exactly the same, albeit perhaps more loose and giggly (on my end.) L. and D.H., however, turn into these crazy people who run around and sing and do lots of physical activity. It was definitely wearing us out.

The boys came back with the movie, which we proceeded not to watch, and we all watched an episode of How I Met Your Mother before falling asleep. The reason I go into so much detail about all this is that something really funny happened the next morning: on the way to lunch at the Prudential Center (right across from D.H.'s office/apartment...lucky duck), D.H. had to stop in his office again to grab something. When he came back out he looked puzzled. "Why was there chex mix in my elevator?" he asked. L. burst out laughing, and said that he had totally forgotten that the night before he had "left a trail of bread crumbs (chex mix) from D.H.'s office to the apartment so that he could find his way back to work."

Blog friends, meet my boyfriend. He makes me, and Boston pigeons, very happy.

We spent the day shopping on Newbury Street, which sounds like something I forced them into until you realize that D.H. likes shopping more than I do. I found a super cute boatneck sailor-striped tee at H&M and totally lucked out by getting pair of luxe black Editor pants from Express for only $30 because of a promotion! Ladies, if you have NOT purchased a pair of Express Editor pants...I just...you just have to. You just do. They are the most comfortable and flattering pair of dress pants you will ever wear. DO IT.

So anyway, after our shopping excursion the boys and I finally went to Fire and Ice, where I happily went into a little bit of a feeding-frenzy blackout and awoke to discover I had eaten probably more than my body weight in chicken stir-frys. That didn't stop us, though, from heading to JP Licks in search of cupcakes (red velvet with cream cheese frosting!), but ultimately settling for ice cream since all they had was vanilla. Boring!

Of course, the only pictures we took all weekend were at the ice cream shop. This is my new H&M top! What do you think?


Then we headed to Newbury Comics, which has the CHEAPEST MOVIES YOU WILL EVER FIND (like, $3.99. For realsies) and pretty much bought out their entire stock. I'm not kidding. Between the three of us, we bought: Get Smart, Catch and Release, The Girl Next Door, The 40 Year Old Virgin, Old School, 500 Days of Summer, Win a Date With Tad Hamilton, PS I Love You, Accepted (showing a little love to our friend J. Long), Season One of the OC, Season One of Psych, The Wedding Date, Season One of How I Met Your Mother, and more that I'm forgetting. Let's play a fun game where you guys try to guess which movies L., D.H., and I bought, respectively. Hint: they're all probably opposite of what you'd think. (Translation: D.H. really likes chick flicks).

We all curled up at home and watched Catch and Release, which may or may not be an awful movie, but which I love, anyway. We were getting ready to go to bed around 1:30 when Tennis Guy came home...with a girl. L. and I were sleeping on the couch, right across from the bathroom, and when she came out in the middle of the night we were a little worried that it might be awkward. Of course, we didn't know then that the next morning, when L., who had been sleeping on the inside of the couch, tried to crawl up and over me (but of course decided to be a big joker about and "pretended" to get stuck, mumbling "oh, jeez, um, oh gosh, sorry, I can't seem to, oh, um") wearing nothing but boxers, TG's nighttime visitor would pick that exact moment to walk out to use the bathroom. That's right. L. was scantily clad and straddling me as I lay on the couch, completely innocently, and she walked right out at that moment, let out a startled giggle, and ducked into the bathroom. God knows what she thought we were doing. Not our finest moment. We had to clear our names at brunch.

We had brunch at the South End Buttery, which was a super cute cafe with casual outdoor and bar seating upstairs and cozy tables downstairs. Being just a short walk away from amazing brunch in the city made me realize how much I am DYING for this year to pass quickly so I can graduate and move to LA and take in all that the city has to offer. On the other hand, though, I'm a sentimental wreck and will probably cling to every mundane event senior year has to offer (last Homecoming! last Thanksgiving break! last course selection!). I just have to remember what the subtitle of my blog is all about: small moments.

(butohmygosh I can't wait to live in the city.)

(especially a city I can drive easily in. I didn't say quickly, just easily.)

(because my feet were killing me Sunday morning and I almost ruined a pair of super cute silver strappy sandals. Say that five times fast.)