Look, the weekend wasn't going to light itself on fire, y'all. Someone had to do it, and that someone was moi. (That's French for 'Gina.')
By Wednesday I had already declared that the entire summer was to be perfectly expressed in a 36-hour window of awesomeness and amazement. The weekend to end all summer weekends.*
Reds game, helmet sundae, fireworks, pool, shopping, grilling out, etc etc.
Etc etc = watching Rosie grind on Gapper. 'Cause nothing says summer like mascots behaving all Jersey Shore.
Now you know what was up this weekend.
*Even though it's still 90 degrees outside, I get cagey about summer being over when school supplies show up in the seasonal aisle at Target, which immediately sends me over the edge and right over to the boxed wine aisle.
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