62. June 29th, 2010 Picture.

Again, I was off last Tuesday and spent the day toasting my skin to a beautiful golden brown at the beach.  I could do that everyday.  An iced coffee, a good book and just me with my toes in the sand.  Life doesn't get much better than that.

Ratty texted me early in the afternoon, saying that him and his co-workers were going out for drinks around 4:30pm.  He asked if I wanted to join them, and since my schedule was wide open, I decided I would.  Ratty's co-worker is getting married this weekend and they were throwing him and his fiancee a little shower at the Presidents House.  Their party was running late, aka there was beer at the Presidents House and didn't have to pay for it, so I went over there as soon as I found a parking spot.  Ratty met me outside the door and told me that everyone was waiting for me.  He made it sound as if I was the guest of honor, and I was slightly unsure what to do.  I have met most of his work friends before, and went to Kristen's wedding last October, so ya, I'd say I know them pretty well.  He said everyone was waiting for me and he wasn't joking.  Apparently Charlie, the Prez, had said that no one could leave until I got there.  I think his exact words were 'Don't go until Ratty's girl gets here.'  They know I don't work there, right?  Like, it's alright if they don't wait for me, I wasn't really invited.

All joking aside, it was a nice time.  I was handed a glass of champagne the second I walked in, so it was already off to a great start.  Peg, Ratty's boss, was a little tipsy and told me I looked adorable and it was no wonder Ratty had the hots for me.  That's exactly what she said, hots.  I don't think I've ever seen a grown man's face turn a darker shade of purple.  I asked if he was alright, half expecting in to start gasping for air and clutching his throat, the obvious universal sign for choking.  After my champagne I was a little less on edge, and sat back to enjoy the party.  Everyone Ratty works with is really nice and super funny, the exact opposite of my co-workers.  Except for one of the Dean's who calls me Bel Biv.  He gets a cool pass.

Once I was shown around the Huntington Ave brownstone where the President takes his Boston residence, we made our way to the Squealing Pig for some food and drinks.  Peg had passed her credit card off on someone, so the bill was completely taken care of.  I love when that happens!  Not that it happens a lot, or ever really.  I don't know if I've ever seen a corporate credit card, but I have dreams of what it would look like.  Anyway, we ordered a round of drinks, but the service was less than stellar.  We waited and waited and I asked 3 times for a round of waters.  If I was paying, I would have complained.  But I wasn't, so I kept my mouth shut.

I got a Chimay, which was fantastic, and it came in cool glass.  I ordered the most amazing sandwich, which was prosciutto, gorgonzola and fig jam panini.  Heaven, pure heaven.  I'm actually dreaming about it right now, and if I wasn't hungry while watching Top Chef, I am definitely hungry now.

I didn't have to work the next day, so Ratty and I went out for a night cap at Sel De La Terre on Boylston where I ordered a Blackberry Sidecar.  It was so good.  Is it socially acceptable for a 26 year old to like Bourbon?  I think I'd look pretty good in a smokers jacket, with a pipe, holding a snifter.  Kind of like Richard from Gilmore Girls, minus the bow-tie.  And obviously female.  The service was far superior to the Squealing Pig, like leaps and bounds.  I felt like a complete idiot when I accidently knocked over my drink, but the bartender was so nice he made me another one on the house.  Two for the price of one!  K, not really, but it was uber nice of him, and he definitely didn't have to.  It was my own fault.  Damn me for my perpetual hunger, I was reaching for the menu.

Oh, and because the service wasn't so great at the Squealing Pig and the Chimay glass was so cool, I totes stole it.  That'll show 'em.