El Presidente, cheesecake, and Motown.

It was Saturday. It was busy. Here's the lowdown:

Kimberly and Chris rode miles and miles and miles, yet somehow stayed in place. She in her spin class at the Y and he in the main workout room on the bike. Afterward, it was a captivating afternoon in front of the telly watching the Democratic Party Rules and By-Laws Committee meeting unfold. Yes, we are indeed THAT brand of nerd. Congressman Robert Wexler takes the cake with his testimony. Pwned!!!11!1!


Kimberly and Monica then ventured out into the treacherous territory of [cue dramatic music] shoe stores for a few hours. Dangerous. Many boxes were brought home, only to be returned soon because some will not match outfits already in possession. And the male of the species scratches his head once more.

Afterward, we made our way to Kernersville to a doctor's home for a dinner party. Not just ANY doctor's home. It was the home of the pediatrician who went to the Dominican Republic this past February. Yes, it was the reunion party for Chris's Dominican Republic trip. Cronies, cohorts, and, ahem, drinking and cigar buddies all got together again for fun and camaraderie. Due to an illness, the debut of the photo DVD with soundtrack was not available for its premier. Drat. A huge metal tub was filled with ice and bottles upon bottles of El Presidente and El Presidente Light and were consumed refreshingly with wild abandon during the warm evening. Also, a large plastic liter of not just Vat 69 scotch (see the daily D-R posts about the trip), but...are you sitting down?....Vat 69 Gold. Vat 69 Gold. A mere 3-year old scotch, with a born-on date to prove it. Why drink a dusty old 12- or 18-year old bottle when Vat 69 proudly proclaims its youth? And Vat 69 Gold! Yum.

From there, our friends the Aarons joined us to downtown Greensboro to Cheesecakes by Alex for delicious sweet treats and coffee. After we "closed down" the joint at 11:00pm, we walked the block or so up Elm Street to Churchill's to catch the Gordons' favorite local band, Soul Central, led by (Gordon favorite greasy spoon) Fincastle Diner's own J-Bird on vocals. Another romp in a smoky dark bar for great Motown and dancing. Mind you, it was the Gordons on their arses watching everybody ELSE make fools of themselves dancing about. A few drinks, some smoke stench, and more than a handful of fake breasts and tight clothing to fill the eyes. One particularly old man, at least 80 years old, stole the show by asking every whore-ish looking hottie in tight spandex to dance with him. How could they refuse? A tip of the cap to ye, bold man. We salute you.

Then, it was finally a 1:30am shower to wash the stink and stench away before collapsing in bed. Soul Central MUST be a good band for the Gordons to suffer through stale smoky air to see and hear 'em.

A full day's work.