I told you I was working my way through that drink menu.

After watching the vice presidential nominees debate on Thursday, Jason rescinded his previous statement that he'd rather watch John McCain talk than see New Kids on the Block. Now he says he would much rather "suffer through" NKOTB than he would through the Republicans. Victory!

His chief complaint about the potential veeps? The way Sarah Palin pronounces maverick (and also her inability to actually answer a question). But enough about that.

Friday we went to Game Universe in Framingham so Jason could trade in his Super Nintendo and his rather impressive SNES game collection toward a Playstation 3. The They didn't have the particular PS3 model he wanted, so we left with a fistful of cash instead. Then it was time for dinner. We (read: I) had wanted to go to Minado for seaweed and sushi, but by the time we got there they were about to close. I was crushed--I really, really wanted seaweed salad!

Instead, Jason decided we should go across the street to The Cheesecake Factory, which was fine with me until he got lost in the mall parking lot and yelled at me for trying to help him navigate in the right direction. By the time we finally got there and were seated, it was 9:30 and I was starving because all I had eaten all day was a bagel.

Fast forward to the end of the meal: we order our dessert to go and my two Long Island iced teas have kicked in quicker than the food. By the time we get home, I'm slightly out of it and have to pee RIGHT NOW. We get to the door and Jason discovers he's left his building key in the car. So he goes back out to get it and leaves me crouched down, leaning against the wall holding it for what seemed like an eternity. At this point the waves in my head are equally as strong as the waves in my bladder. He finally gets back and unlocks the security door and I book it upstairs where I again have to wait for him to get there with the keys. The second he gets the door open, I hurdle over the kitty welcoming committee and into the bathroom. When he comes into our room a moment later, I'm sitting on the toilet with my head in my hands. He asks me if I'm ok, and I wail, "Nooooo, I'm dizzy and I need to take my contacts out because I can't SEEEEEEEEEE!"

I somehow manage to do that and find my way to the couch, where I faceplant. I drag myself to bed a short time later while Jason is in the shower.

Wow, other peoples' posts about drunken shenanigans are a lot more entertaining than mine are.

I'll continue with my weekend tale tomorrow.