Good Morning. F*$! You. Have Some Coffee.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Plotnik is sitting in Coffee East in Easton, Maryland, 10 miles from where the wedding will take place this afternoon, and an hour and a half from Baltimore Airport Train Depot, where he is driving to pick up BZ who is training down from NYC. The train must be on time and the highway must be open for them both to make it back to the wedding on time, and this is going to happen, because the sun is shining.

Bowling last night was fun. The hole in the wall didn't really amount to anything and Plot and Duck got to see their old friend Emily. Emily used to go out with Dave. Plot and Duck stayed with Dave earlier in the week in McClean, Virginia, and spent the evening shmoozing last night with Emily. Both Dave and Emily have different mates now, and both Ellen and Al are very nice people, but you know how it works...the newbies are newbies, even after decades. Your old friends are your old friends, and they're still together, in some way, in your head.



Eating in a bowling alley means a combination of every junk food known to man. Last night the Three Course Special consisted of donuts, french fries and beer. For a little extra, you could also get fried Buffalo wings, fried oysters and fried chicken fingers. Still don't know where a chicken hides its fingers.



Plot's pathetic basketball-jammed fingers don't really fit in a bowling ball anymore. After 9PM they turn down the house lights and turn on the strobes. Nobody over 50 can even see the lanes anymore, so there are...accidents. Patsy's brother's wife threw her first ball, overshot her mark, the ball got stuck in her fingers, she flew up into the air and landed on the back of her head. After that she took off her bowling shoes and sat on a chair with an icepack, next to the chicken fingers.

This morning, Patsy's phrase, as she sat drinking her coffee, was: "Good Morning. F*** you. Have some coffee." She's pretty much fried, but only has the entire wedding for 175 and tomorrow's brunch for 60 left to deal with. This really is a monumental undertaking.