Sex or sandwich?

First and foremost, if you live in the greater DC area, get your butt outside immediately.  It is absolutely gorgeous out.  Nothing like a little vitamin D and sunshine to improve a girl’s mood. 

It is Cherry Blossom season here in our fair District, thus the tourists have arrived en masse*.  As much as I love watching them get stuck in the train doors, I largely try to avoid the Metro on the weekends and have taken to only participating in activities that are bicycle-accessible.  Luckily, my friends enjoying leaving the Hill as much as I love a tourist, so it has been fairly easy to negotiate. 

T Bone and I decided to spend Friday evening enjoying Porkslap and burgers at our neighborhood dive.  Halfway through the night, we were approached by a very drunk and shiny faced Scottish man that thought we were both real cute.  Frustrated that we didn’t want to go smoke a cigarette with him, nor attend a baseball game with him in the morning, nor flirt back, he demanded to know if we were lesbians and then declared us fucking boring.  Oh, well. 

After a brisk bike up the street**, we landed at our second bar and started a heated game of sandwich or sex? in which one is forced to choose between sex with a certain individual or the best sandwich in the history of the world.  While the premise is simple, it is oddly entertaining after a couple of beers.  It also presents quite the challenge to T Bone and myself, as we both fucking love sandwiches.

That was the extent of my weekend adventures and this week is panning out to be just as uneventful.  Nat and I will be participating in Chair Play tomorrow night to make our butt checks firm and our first kick ball event is Thursday.  My kickball interest and skills are severely lacking— this is just one more activity I’ve signed myself up for in order to meet cute boys. 

*Other than the fact that it is funny when they get stuck in the train doors, they have absolutely no redeeming qualities.  They walk slow and get in my way and stand on the left side of the escalators. 

**It was T Bone’s first venture into drunk biking.  I was very concerned about her well being.  If I would have had a helmet and wrist guards and knee pads, I totally would have made her wear them. 


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