...because the fabulous Diana came to visit.
Diana brought me spiced wafers and trashy magazines, tolerated my putting us on the wrong bus to Georgetown, ignored the fact that it took me 20 minutes to find all the pieces to my coffee maker and also walked my dog so I could take care of important things, like sitting down.
(Diana is now Ceiba's best friend in the entire world, and that dog was clearly and openly pissed when I returned home on Sunday afternoon without her.)
We took not one, but two trips to Lush, purchased approximately 97 bath bombs and openly abused a tester container of $78 moisturizer, spent forever in Sephora in search of Chanel lipgloss and the perfect green eyeshadow, decided that Paris Hilton's perfume smells exactly like filthy whore, and bought lots and lots of wee baby boy clothes.
Jason took us to a fancy restaurant like the divas we are, schooled us on why the 2002 vintage is the best for Burgundy, got wasted on said Burgundy and then broke our new wine glasses from Target by accident, which was really funny and this totally absolved Diana for knocking her water glass clear across the table at dinner earlier.
(It's very interesting being the sober one and realizing that your loved ones are hilarious drunks.)
After Jason done passed out cold, we stayed up to watch Gilmore Girls reruns, applied face masks from Lush and then poked my belly for a good 20 minutes to get the baby to move around and entertain us.
And we discussed Serious Issues, including:
1) Racism: The real thing vs. your friends just being assholes.
2) FEMA, suckage of.
3) The Food Network, awesomeness of.
4) Natural childbirth, batshit craziness of.
5) What it was like to be in DC on September 11, 2001.
6) Who is costarring with CuteDean from Gilmore Girls in Supernatural, and oh my God, it's not Freddie Prinze Jr., right? Please tell me it's not. (It's totally not, but we were Very Scared there for a moment.)
7) Celebrity couples whose divorces we would take personally (i.e. Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson).
8) What a perfume by Tara Reid would probably smell like (i.e. chlamydia and condoms).
9) How that's Dick Cheney's mansion right there, Diana, which she really didn't care about, especially since I totally interrupted an important story about her hair to point it out.
10) How starting sentences with the word "dude" is NOT lame, but merely a way of adding emphasis, as in, "DUDE, it is very important that you listen to what I say next, because DUDE, it's crazy."
Now, I ask you, could you imagine a better weekend? Because I, for one, cannot. At all.
P.S. That first photo? Some random guy in the street took for us. And he claimed to be a "maternity photographer" and made Di put her hand on my belly like that. After he handed the camera back we realized that he snapped approximately eleventy hundred pictures and was probably nothing but a big weirdo perv.
P.P.S. BUT JESUS GOD IN HEAVEN, THAT BELLY IS GIGANTIC. How am I still walking upright?