Alli: There's a sense in which I completely love this whole thing, and a sense in which I completely hate it. Does that make sense?
Sars: Sorry, say again? I have a tambourine IN MY EAR.
Beverage selections: One margarita, provided as part of the mini-race in which one of the tasks was to...well, get me a margarita. (I immediately decide that these tasks were very well-written.) One Diet Coke, bought for me by Ivy, who was quite disgusted that I was switching away from "real drinks," only because she had no way of knowing that I was hungry and tired and the single margarita had therefore made me feel kind of zingy anyway, so I had immediately decided to back off. One rum-and-coke that I got myself. One rum-and-coke bought by macaddict and handed to me through a throng of people in a moment quite reminiscent of chatterbox's move at the first TARcon. One glass of champagne, also provided by Ivy. Two Coronas at the stupidest bar in America.Seventeen
Kevin is telling a story. He reaches a crucial juncture describing his least favorite person in the story. "So this douchebag..." Behind him, Nancy gives a large and comical cringe. "Oh, Kevin," she scolds.
Lenny: I don't know about some of those things you said about me.
Alli: Oh, come on. You don't even remember what I said about you.
Lenny: [perfect momentary eyebrow-pop, followed by sudden calm] Okay, let me just put this beer down. [puts beer down] First of all, you called us…what, Team Karry or something?
Alli: Team Kenny, actually.
Lenny: Yeah, see? How come her name comes first?
Nineteen Cyndi and Russell come over to me and shake my hand. As was the case on the show, she seems to be the one who goes out and meets people -- he's clearly a little more shy. I am apprehensive about meeting them, just a little bit, because one of their sons came to the boards before the season started, and of course acted a lot like a son might when the snarking on them started, and...well, to make a long story short, he was banned. Yeah. So I figured that would make an interesting opening.
She shakes my hand. "Now, you're the site my son went to, aren't you?" I smile tightly. "Yeah...yeah," I say, "I think I remember something about that." "Oh, my gosh!" she says. "I told him, 'I'm going to have to go to this party and apologize for you!'" I blink rapidly. "I don't -- I actually think he was doing the kid thing perfectly, in a way." She laughs. "No, really -- he was being your kid, you know? It's not like I would enjoy people picking on my mom, either." She is extremely nice. I don't know at the time that she will turn into the new Guido Bill, in that she will spend the next couple of weeks patiently answering a million questions on the forums, and even helping Rinaldo with the famous timelines that would otherwise cause him to lie awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how he has neglected the effect of crossing the international dateline.