Ok, let's give this baby a test drive...


I woke up at 6am, where I found myself in one of the inner circles of Hell for the next five hours. Yes, it was one of the worst hangovers I've ever had.

Despite my frequent drinking habits, I rarely get so totally wasted that I try to jump in the water at The National Mall and develop a crush on my Dad's girlfriend. But I digress.

Dad's been trying to sell his house recently. (The same spacious one he kicked us all out of after the divorce, forcing us back to our old Condo.)

When the house finally sells, he'll give Mom all the child support money he's owed for the past year. And mom, in turn, will move the family out to Seattle. (Probably the last time I see her for the next few years. *sniff*) That'll be great for her and the kids. She hates this area almost as much as I do.

So for the benefit of all involved, Mom and I went to Dad's house where we spent a few hours cleaning it up and getting it into an eye-pleasing condition. I ended up staying after Mom left, since Dad wanted to treat me to a movie I've been looking forward to seeing.

We ended up behind schedule as usual though, so didn't end up seeing it. Instead we picked up his girlfriend J and headed for a local restaurant. J, for the record, is less than a year older than me.

I ended up having a Home Salad, which tasted great. (Going down that is- wasn't very good the next morning.) Plus I had a martini and J gave me a margaritta she couldn't finish.

A little more free, socially speaking, I actually engaged in the conversation and learned a little more about J, who for the last few months had just been 'Dad's Girlfriend'. I had met her a couple of times of course, along with her son. (No, it's not Dads, thank God.) But I hadn't really talked to her before.

I was a bit hyped up and it was only 11pm, so I suggested we head into D.C. Everyone agreed and soon we found ourselves in Luigi's, the owner being an old friend of Dad's.

Up until than I had a comfortable buzz going, but the social setting prompted me to have a little bit more, and I ended up with another Martini and a B-52. Plus I shared another drink with J.

Dad was working on his social connections with the workers, so J and I headed upstairs. That section had closed for the night so it was empty. We stood next to the window for a while, just taking in the cityscape for a bit while we talked some more. Before we went back downstairs J mentioned how she loved to sit by the water at the FDR memorial, so after we finally left Luigi's I mentioned we should head over there.

It was pretty late by now though, so we ended up at the Lincoln Memorial instead. The weird thing was Dad wanted to stay in the car, so J and I ended up going alone.

We went inside, and since my glasses made me nauseous when I put them on, she read me the inscriptions that were carved everywhere. We walked around a bit after that, finally settling down by the water after I tried to jump in. J held me back, of course.

Which reminds me that for the past ten minutes we'd been walking hand in hand, our finger intertwined. Of course it was probably just to keep me from falling over my own feet, though she continued to hold it after we sat, emphasizing some things she said with the occasional squeeze. At any rate, it felt pretty nice. Her skin was very soft, and I think I complimented it at one point. I can't really remember.

So we sat, commenting on the beatiful view of the Washington Monument. And we talked a lot, finding out just how much we had in common. She's always wanted to travel as well, mostly to the same uncommon places I want to see. Same music tastes, same odd habits, same geeky love for our computers...

And then the sprinklers started up and laughing, we jumped through them a bit before heading back to the car where Dad was waiting. On the way home I couldn't fight it anymore and fell asleep.

I barely remember coming home, but I seem to recall litteraly dragging myself across the floor to my bed.

Apparently this stupid thing has a limit, so I'll have to split this into two posts.

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