It was Easter weekend, and from the second I turned off my computer at work on Good Friday, I was up to no good. My friends and I decided to hit Foxwoods for some gambling and sacreligious activity. Our friend Barney was present and ready to Barney Rock (Barney Rock = act shamefully/make poor choices/drain bank accounts/offend everyone/make Jesus sad). Anyways, my boyfriend, best friend, and her boyfriend checked in at MGM while Barney checked into his own Two Trees suite for a romantic getaway alone with my boyfriend’s younger brother, who was defaulted into being Barney’s roommate due to the couple to single person ratio. Barney likes to think he is smart with his finances by being frugal and booking cheaper hotel rooms he knows damn well he won’t be sleeping in anyways. Then he gambles away the difference he saved from booking a shittier hotel room. Once we were settled and ready, we had a quick pregame session in our room and hit the casino. We were disappointed that Barney wasn’t wearing a suit, and therefore we could not film our own version of the Rain Man escalator scene. You know, Barney and another one of our guy friends side by side looking dapper, Barney’s head cocked to the side and a blank look in his eyes. Sort of like this:Nope. Maybe next time Barney will comply. But for this Foxwoods visit, the closest we got to the Barney as Raymond Babbitt/escalator reenactment that we had hoped for went something like this:
I’d say that was more of a cross between the Emilio Esteves/Breakfast Club dance scene and Alan from The Hangover with some John Belushi mixed it. Eh. A little disappointing just because my expectations were so high. But nothing is as disappointing as this cartwheel that he hyped up:
The rest of my weekend consisted of: a long car ride back to Massachusetts in the back seat with my best friend and Barney reminding us that he did not shower; my friend’s birthday at a dive bar (LOVE when people aren’t douchebags and keep it simple); sugar free Red Bull; sleeping through Easter mass; ruining my appetite for my mom’s dinner by eating too many Cadbury eggs; and broken childhood dreams wrapped in colorful cellophane. But I’m okay with my Easter activities. I think getting into a zombie-like state brings me closer to Jesus around this time of year. Happy Easter everyone! And remember, you’re probably going to hell. Sorry, I guess I’m just bitter that tomorrow is Monday.