I guess Its time to get this all on paperrrrrr

Foxfields

Foxfields is basically an excuse for Uva to dress up in the most ridiculous outfits ever and all cram into little areas called "plots" then proceed to get absolutely shithammered, while maybe taking in a horserace or two...if you are unlucky. It is also a chance to catch up with old friends, old enemies, exes, acquaintances that you're just not sure deserve a hello, and new friends that you just haven't met yet.

This picture is of the entrance, a horribly coordinated multiple colored ticket mosh pit of sexually charged sun dresses. There is nothing quite like it, especially when you're hauling Titanic-like coolers of beer and vodka that are breaking faster than Arlen Specter's allegiances before a primary. Once inside this glorious donk fest, its a mere mile walk to the alumni plot. On the way I saw the first ex, Fiza plastered already and in great form. It was her birthday weekend and she looked fabulous and truly happy to see me. We exchanged pleasentries and passed like ships in the night. So we get to the plot to find that It is overrun by the med school tent. This is ok though as they have a ROBUST buffet. Me and G decided to talk transplants really loudly while snagging some raisin canes and chocolate chip cookies. No one was the wiser. Then the drinking commenced....jk we had been drinking since 7am.

So the first excursion into the orange plots (the youngins and the graduate schoolers) took me to Marky's. It was great to see him and meet my future wife and whatnot. However, this was short lived as Ex number 2 walked up with mutual friend. Heather Koo was not nearly so kind as Fiz, and despite 90 degree weather an arctic chill went down my spine....somewhere in the distance Socrates wept. The festivities continued with the arrival of george however, and we ran around meeting greeting and judging various annorexic women dolled up like easter eggs. The whole scene was so classically UVA, and it truly was a fantastic, allbeit nauseating at times expression of southern douchebaggery. It's like a trip to vegas, it's absolutely incredible until you realize you're mired in filth and disdain for your fellow man. Nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there. So the whole shebang comes to a close and then the game of, find the sober person to drive home, begins. We walked to some convinience store and sat in the grass waiting for a taxi as a line of cars passed by exitting the field. I decided to hitch-hike home (a genius drunk move) with a friendly couple from Washington and Lee that looked sober and seemed kind enough. Fortunately I made a good read and arrived back in time to snag some christian's pizza and walk back to Tom and Eric's for some post game passing the F out and Frosty consumption.

So then It was off to the bars for some post game antics. We decided to walk to Bhuddist, but upon seeing a mass of people cramming and jamming (a little too remeniscent of the foxfields entrance) their way in the front door, a detour to Biltmore was quickly executed. I got the first round, saw my favorite bartender, and made sure everyone had a drink in hand before peacing. Why? Because I had something on my mind that I just couldn't purge. An insatiable cruiousity. So I left the bar and headed to the tennis courts, when what to my wondering eyes should appear? Nari Song, decked out in tennis gear.

This was a pretty big shocker. I had received a text earlier in the night that said, "hey this is Nari, I thought you might be in town, would you like to play tennis?" I think, right then and there I understood what it must have been like to open the door and find publisher's clearing house guy with a giant check and big balloons outside. I could not have been more pleasantly surprised.

So I played a little tennis while buzzed ( a feat that makes serving quite difficult I might add) until they shut the lights off at 12:30. The rest of the night involved a lot of planet earth and water... one more foxfields in the books, and it couldn't have ended happier :)

Hockey Games

So as of late, I've gotten really into watching the Washington Capitals hockey team. It's basically a bunch of young guns playing flashy hockey, with Alexander Ovechkin leading the acrobatics. OV as he's known can plain and simple do things on the ice that no other player in the NHL has been able to do ever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AO1TuEp8eqI

The best part about this highlight reel goal was....I WAS THERE! Peacock hooked Dan and I up with some amaaazing seats for game 5. I must say, that playoff hockey games live might be the most exciting sporting event I've ever been to. It definitely rivals some of the greater college football games. I'm not entirely sure why hockey hasn't become the next big sport in America. It has everything, hitting, constant action, star power...I think if more people watched the Caps and Penguins play, they'd realize just how beautiful the game has gotten. It's no longer about fighting and forechecking, It's about fast skating, threading needles with passes, and deflecting pucks going past you at ~100 miles an hour. How anyone can be a good NHL goalie in today's game, with scorers like OV and Semin on the ice...it just baffles me.

You can imagine my delight when Game 7 went our way completing the comeback from 3-1 down in the series. Diana had to witness my apartment in all its ridiculous manhoodyness...sp?? Scotty, Joey, Ben, and Peacock's dad all argued about every miniscule detail of sports history...all the while Diana sat bewildered (I may have been too shhhh) wiping testosterone from her face every five or so minutes. I felt kinda bad, but at least we got to have a normal dinner at 1Gen thai, which was delish.

This post has gotten kinda long, so i'll save some stories for the next one. Until then, gl in all you do.