After an eventful Friday evening (see previous post), the weekend didn't slow down much. Saturday, I played soccer and then went to a fun Christmas party at a friends' house, where we discovered that a box of white zinfandel is still a classic holiday gift. And portable, too. Yesterday, we had a party for Maria's birthday in the apartment, with quite a good turnout for a Sunday night. I got Maria tickets to Wicked for when it comes to Boston this spring; we both read the book by Gregory Maguire and really liked it. The M is for Maria party featured mojitos, margaritas, and martinis, and several guests who overindulged in the M drinks (myself included) headed out to a Chinese restaurant in Quincy for some late-night karaoke. Our group delivered several masterful performances, but unfortunately the place shut down before MJ and I could do our duet to Afternoon Delight. We did get a chance to perform Joy To The World, and unlike in the past, when men have literally fled the premises at the sound of our voices (the anti-Sirens?), a mysterious man with a voice of gravel sent us over two Bud Lights. My favorite song of the night was a hilarious version of Bohemian Rhapsody sung by MJ's boyfriend Jamie and his friend Jim. You know most people's accents disappear when they sing? I always thought that phenomenon was so strange, like if you hear any of The Beatles speak, they have noticeable British accents, but when they sing, not a trace. Well, apparently our Irish neighbors are the only people on Earth immune to that phenomenon, because they sang Light My Fire with the thickest Irish accents imaginable.
In other news, the '72 Dolphins popped champagne once again. Congratulations to my favorite non-Patriot and teammates for putting the pout back on Peyton Manning's face.
And I'm still sick, but not as bad as I felt last Friday. I look like crap, though: good thing my hairdresser talked me out of the jet black hair, because I'm looking corpse-like enough this morning.
Lastly, am I the only person with absolutely no desire to see the new King Kong movie? It looks terrible. Bring on the gay cowboys.