Divine Providence

Hey, amigos. It's been a long time since I rapped at ya, and I know you are wondering: How did Kelly and Josh and THEIR LOVE spend Memorial Day weekend?

The answer is: We spent it in Rhode Island. But we cannot prove it, because nobody took any pictures.

Yes, we went up to see our friends Bob and Kelly—better known, to eliminate confusion, as Dr. Bob the Astrophysicist and Kelly 2/Kelly Austero—and basically, our weekend consisted of drinking, watching TV shows on DVD, drinking, drinking, running to the liquor store (and by "running," I mean "driving"—but safely), and drinking. We did some eating, too, and went to an arts-and-crafts fair (the ladies protested, but Bob and I were adamant about going).

And yes, we did have to tell Bob and Kelly 2 to stop trying to swing with us, too. I don't know, man. Maybe we need to stop showering, stop working out, stop just lookin' so damn good. Maybe we're just friends with a lot of open-minded people. I don't know, man.

So on Saturday we woke up and hopped on the train. Super busy, so that we couldn't sit down for the first 45 minutes of the ride or so. The conductor said, "Should clear out by Stamford," and then, lo and behold, it cleared out by Stamford and we could sit and read and listen to our musics. Bob and Kelly 2 picked us up in New Haven, and after the obligatory jokes about people who go to Yale (except for Rory, bless her heart), we headed in the direction of Providence.

Every time we go to visit Bob and Kelly 2, they tell us what terrible, terrible drivers the native Rhode Islandese are, but this was the first time we had a chance to see the terribleness in all its full-blown glory. On the way to their house from the train station alone, we saw three deer get hit, two trucks flip over, and four familes die fiery, fiery deaths. Also, a bus full of nuns exploded. (At one point Kelly 2 said, "Bob, maybe you should pull over and Kelly and Josh can take off their clothes and use them to wrap up some of the injured people. We could all take off our clothes and use them to wrap up some of the injured people!" Subtle, K2, subtle.)

Once we'd arrived in Providence (actually it was Cranston—seriously, though: Chill, people) and put our bags away, we hustled down to the arts-and-crafts fair, where Kelly would not let me buy a comforter and pillow set with Yoda on it. I should have gone over her head on that one, but between that and the candy rocks, I just sort of got lost in a reverie. Yes, a lady was selling candy rocks. They looked just like gravel (kind of like the rocks you put on the bottom of your fish tank), but they tasted like delicious candy. Oh, and then, at a booth selling posters and other pop culture matériel, I overheard the greatest, most mind-bogglingest conversation ever:

20-year-old Girl: They have AC/DC posters. You like them, right?

20-year-old Boyfriend: No. They're to heavy metal what the Ramones were to punk. They suck.

Wow.

That night we dined at Lobstermania. On the one hand, it was awesome, because we didn't have to wait for an hour like the other rubes, thanks to Kelly 2's extraordinary reservation-getting foresight, and because we got to sit by the water, looking over the harbor; on the other hand, they only had two kinds of dessert: Grape-Nut pudding and mud pie, which our waiter described as—well, I can't remember what he said verbatim, but he used the words "cow shit." We chalked it up to his thinking that we were a "cool" table, probably because of our young good looks. Anyhoo, we passed on both and went to a café for cake and coffee. Then we went home, had some wine, and the ladies talked about physics while Bob and I talked about knitting. (It was very confusing; we were pretty drunk.)

The next day, Sunday, we went to breakfast at Mr. Peabody's. If for some reason, you ever find yourself in the Providence area, there are only two things you must do: #1. Eat at Mr. Peabody's. The food is delicious, and the folks there are the only friendly people in the entire tiny state. You think I'm making a sweeping generalization about Rhode Island, but Bob and Kelly Austero told us that everyone there was rude, and they weren't kidding. It's hard to put into words, but go there sometime and see for yourself. I think the rudeness is either because the state is so small and has an inferiority complex, or because of the dark forces lurking in the waters just off the shore. Which brings me to: #2. Sacrifice something or someone to Cthulhu. Not because H.P. Lovecraft grew up in Providence, but just because it's polite. Respecting your elders means the Great Old Ones, too, people.

After breakfast we went back to Bob and Kelly 2's and drank homemade sangria. Lots of homemade sangria. We kept making it and drinking it all and making more. We watched Arrested Development and drank some more sangria. Honestly, Sunday is kind of a blur. I mean, it was a blur when it was happening, and it hasn't become any more clear. All I remember is finally falling into bed with Kelly, telling her how glad I was that we were going to make it home safely the next day, that we hadn't gotten so intoxicated as to be tricked into swinging...feeling her strong arms wrapped around me and the stubble on her cheek grazing against my skin as she whispered sweet astrophysical nothings in my ear in her deep, deep voice...OMG. Nothing. Never mind.