Christine Catches You Up Pt. 1 � � � Tuesday, Jun. 03, 2003 * 20:13

Considering how much has happened since I last wrote, gear yourselves up for a long entry. I warned you.

As you all may or may not know, I went to Ocean City last week with John. It was a blast. My infection cleared up just in time for me to be relatively un-sick. We stayed at the Dunes Manor Hotel, and it was really nice. If you've been to OC, you may have seen it. It's the giant pink hotel that looks all princess-y, just 4 blocks north of the end of the boardwalk. When we got there, and entered the elevator, there was a small man and a large woman inside. They remarked that "Oh, wow. Look at what room we're in. 911. How strange. Oh yes, I was just thinking that, dear." Then the small man turned to John and me and said, "I was the president of Cantor Fitzgerald, you know. The company that got destroyed in 1 World Trade Center." Then, the woman said, "It's a blessing from Jesus that he wasn't there that day. Yes." We nodded politely and quickly got out of the elevator. I am still having a hard time believing that that tiny, ruddy man was ever the president of anything but his own fan club.

John seemed to want to watch Marky Marky Mark vs. the Monkeys (Planet of the Apes), but I pointedly reminded him that we had not come all the way to the beach to watch sub-sub-sub-sub-par blockbuster movies starring guys with huge wangs who can't do dialogue. So, we went downstairs and went out to the water. It was raining , so that wasn't much fun. Then we went to Phillip's, and that was overpriced and our waitress looked like a giant Amazon monster from the planet ZoidThigh. I say this because the table was very low, and all I was confronted with every time she stopped by, which was often, were her frighteningly large and inhumanely strong looking thighs.

After we parted ways with ThighZilla, we went to the Zippy Lewis Lounge in the hotel, and I had a Long Island Iced Tea. I also had a very engaging conversation with an older lady, who looked like she'd been through several hundred Bloody Marys, about TV. She had never seen an episode of Seinfeld, and when I expounded upon my shock, she told me about how she only watched crime drama shows on A&E, and that she was only just now getting into Golden Girls and Designing Women. God help me if I ever end up that way. Shortly after this, an old gentleman in overalls came to the bar and ordered "his usual," as he called it. The girl asked him if he wanted Old Bay, and he answered "Extra, please." In shock we watched as she mixed the following ingredients into a glass: a heaping tablespoon full of Old Bay, tomato juice, A-1 steak sauce, Worcestershire sauce, triple sec, tobasco sauce, and a dash of vodka.

Yeah. Riiiiight.

Other activities that evening included miniature golf, hours of skee ball, and then a trip to Shenanigans. John expressed a desire to get drunk, so I came along even though I was not in such a mood. I had a couple of drinks, but that quickly made my stomach churn, thanks to my Super Antibiotics. John however had about a million Kamakazes and beers. Now, this might not all sound very interesting, but keep in mind that our bartender was a 500 pound man named Bubsy, and he was working the bar all by his lonesome. Watching this man run to and fro, while he engaged in conversation with us all the while, was truly endearing. Also there was Jeff, Super Cute Waiter extraordinaire. He told us all about the table of people behind us, where some sort of unholy pagan ritual was unfurling in our midst. One man was drinking upwards of 20 Car Bombs, and 151 shots with raspberry. Dear lord.

We went outside after telling Bubsy goodbye when he closed the bar. We happened by the Jesus sand sculptures, and made fun of them for a good while. A man came by to empty the donations jar, and we wondered whether he was Jesus, since by rights, Jesus should be the only one getting that money or having a key to open His money jar. I forget why, but it was at this time that John said the funniest thing I have ever heard anyone say.

"Jesus isn't going to do shit for you. He's just going to sit there and die."

I'm not sure why that was so funny, but I think I laughed for about 20 minutes until I cried.

We played some more miniature golf on the way home (it was now 1am), and some scary drunk guys hit on me. I told them that I was married, and that they couldn't handle me anyway, and they said something to the effect of "DAYUM!" and then we went and sat on a lifeguard chair for a long time. Justin called, and we both talked to him for about an hour. Then, it was bedtime.

I'm tired of writing this for the love of God. I'll finish later.