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No Picnic at the Park
This past weekend we had a little picnic in Central Park. I know it’s so cliché but we had to take advantage of the perfect weather. 70-degrees with a balmy breeze and not a cloud in the sky, the weather was idyllic for having an outdoor lunch as our only agenda on a lazy Saturday afternoon. To prepare for the picnic, we packed homemade Portobello mushroom sandwiches (with tomato and basil in balsamic vinegar on wheat challah), side of artichoke, wine and cheese, and a lemon green tea cookie for dessert in a grocery bag substituting as our picnic basket. With no extra sheets or blankets to spare, I brought along three old pillowcases I found in the apartment.
When we arrived at Central Park, we found the perfect spot to lay down our makeshift blanket: singing hippies to the left, college kids playing Frisbee to the right, and a girl with fake boobs in front. We started with a wine and cheese party but quickly realized how small the 3 pillowcases were for the two of us to sit on. We then ripped them up to double the size of our “blanket.” Besides feeling like we were homeless, it worked like a charm. Who needs dignity anyway when you are already drinking wine out of a mini paper cup (you know – those little Dixie cups for brushing your teeth and making jello shots)? We finished our first bottle of wine so fast that we had to get a second bottle after 40 minutes.
We spent the next four hours people watching, eating/drinking, reading, napping in the sun, and waiting in line for the bathroom. Justin even got picked up by a drunk girl while he was in the bathroom line (I’m so proud!) Nothin’ like getting a good wine buzz (and getting hit on for some) in Central Park. We ended our perfect day with a great Mexican dinner 
with friends at La Palapa and capped off our night at a hookah lounge with a belly dancer!
This past weekend we had a little picnic in Central Park. I know it’s so cliché but we had to take advantage of the perfect weather. 70-degrees with a balmy breeze and not a cloud in the sky, the weather was idyllic for having an outdoor lunch as our only agenda on a lazy Saturday afternoon. To prepare for the picnic, we packed homemade Portobello mushroom sandwiches (with tomato and basil in balsamic vinegar on wheat challah), side of artichoke, wine and cheese, and a lemon green tea cookie for dessert in a grocery bag substituting as our picnic basket. With no extra sheets or blankets to spare, I brought along three old pillowcases I found in the apartment.
When we arrived at Central Park, we found the perfect spot to lay down our makeshift blanket: singing hippies to the left, college kids playing Frisbee to the right, and a girl with fake boobs in front. We started with a wine and cheese party but quickly realized how small the 3 pillowcases were for the two of us to sit on. We then ripped them up to double the size of our “blanket.” Besides feeling like we were homeless, it worked like a charm. Who needs dignity anyway when you are already drinking wine out of a mini paper cup (you know – those little Dixie cups for brushing your teeth and making jello shots)? We finished our first bottle of wine so fast that we had to get a second bottle after 40 minutes.
We spent the next four hours people watching, eating/drinking, reading, napping in the sun, and waiting in line for the bathroom. Justin even got picked up by a drunk girl while he was in the bathroom line (I’m so proud!) Nothin’ like getting a good wine buzz (and getting hit on for some) in Central Park. We ended our perfect day with a great Mexican dinner 
with friends at La Palapa and capped off our night at a hookah lounge with a belly dancer!
2 comments:
sounds like some girls wet dream after a glass of pink zinfidel!
what a dildo ride,.... you've been ready to much cosmopolitin lunch munch buffet. I think you should of wrote about the fact you took off your shirt and exposed some Japanese A-bombs,....resulting in complete chaos, domestic terrorism in central park!
Try learning how to write English properly before you post a comment so we can all understand what the f*ck you’re trying to say. Apparently hooked-on-phonics doesn’t work for everyone.
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