Travolta Ain't Got Nothin' on DelCo Cover Bands

Pardon my vulgarity, but this morning I would like to say only:

Fuck you, Avis Rental Car.

The horror of this morning's rental car return! The incomprehensive signs pointing to off-airport drop-off locations! The gut-wrenching drive up and down Post Road! The calls to Avis headquarters! Who couldn't help me because I was calling from a New York number! And that's why I was routed to New York! And if I had been wise enough to call from a Rhode Island land line, I may have gotten the assistance I needed!

So yes, fuck you Avis, and your assinine ways. I thank you ever so graciously for causing me to miss my 7:15 AM flight to Philadelphia.

At the very least, you have offered me the opportunity to discuss last weekend's 10th Annual Girls' Christmas Party! The highlights:

• The line of the night, courtesy of Di. I won't do it justice; just know that it ends with a blow to her two year-old son's ego, when he was unfortunate enough to be caught in the Gallery in Center City Philadelphia behind a dissatisfied customer, who directed her rage at the young kid: "Look at that big ass kid in the stroller!" Oh my God. We laughed for an hour, though it was probably D's delivery of the line. I'm still laughing now.
• Allie presenting us with her gifts, explaining, "This is because we're all sort of homey now, y'know?" She gave us all wonderful cookbooks: except Grace of course, who got a giant encyclopedia of cocktails. Well-played, Al. Well-played.
• Lord - Grace. After the lovely dinner hosted at Al's, the six of us plunged into the depths of Delco nightlife: Goon's. A particularly lame cover band performed (like, have you ever seen an all-man group rock out to "You're the one that I want" from Grease?). Grace became agitated and decided to throw me around some on the dance floor. And push me into the stage. Repeatedly.
• Grace then followed me to the side of the stage, at which time the bassist foolishly invited her up. She danced, hopped off, then wanted more. She jumped back, dragging me with her. I stood in the back as Grace bounded towards the microphone. Security immediately accosted her. We decided it was time to head out.
• The sleepover. Let's just say, Grace ended up in a compromising position at night's end. Koos delightedly snapped photos with her camera phone, which woke Grace from her delicate slumber. "Seriously?" she asked, exasperated. Again, we laughed and laughed.

Kudos to us for keeping the tradition alive since high school. Here is to Christmas parties well into our 90s, at which time I expect Grace will still be tossing me around on the dance floor like a ragdoll.