More Whining as a Prelude to the Catwalk

Our whining started Sunday morning.

"I really don't feel like going out tonight," Chris confided over our morning coffee.

I quickly agreed and added, "Sunday nights are supposed to be spent at home."

We whined more and more as the day continued. I even whined to my brother Travis on the phone later that afternoon when he asked what we were up to that day.

"We have to go to a fundraiser - the Catwalk for Charity thing by Ryan Miller." I said and then quickly added, "But we really don't want to go. Really don't." I let out a huge sigh and continued, "But we have to."

My brother, knowing me very well, just laughed and said, "That's what you always say. I'll read on your blog how you and Chris were partying it down in a few days."

How well he does know us. We may not have partied it down. (I mean, no shots of tequila were consumed while dancing on top of a bar or anything.) But we had much, much fun. Open bar, yummy food, good friends and Buffalo celebrity sightings galore. (I mean, hello!, the principal guy from Saved by the Bell was there people. This is good stuff.)

My girlfriends and I spent a little too much time in the photo booth with a life size cutout of Ryan Miller, only to gawk at the real thing when we stepped out of the booth and found him standing right in front of us. We managed to put ourselves together a few minutes later and breezily chat him up on the money he was raising for cancer programs by hosting the shin dig. (And then Christine had to go and ruin it when he walked away by informing us he must think we are all "very, very old women." Sniff. Who you calling old?)

At one point in the evening, I got trapped in a corner behind two former Buffalo Bills - Jim Kelly and Alex Van Pelt. After a few minutes of being stuck and a few laughing glances by my friends who were engaging them in conversation, both guys realized I was there, grabbed me in a group hug and declared "I was trapped in the sweet spot." (I only wish I had taken my friend Greg up on his offer of 20$ if I grabbed both their asses at once. Damn. One more glass of wine and I would have been golden.)

The live auction continued, for the third year in a row, to be out of our bidding league. I wanted the sweet little black lab puppy so bad I even had Chris convinced we could bid on his furry doggie cuteness. Until the players' wives decided they wanted him too and bid it up to $6000. Yes, a tad bit too much for us. We also convinced ourselves that maybe, just maybe, if we got all of our friends to pitch in we could afford the Iron Chef backyard barbecue competition, complete with wine tasting and Sabres sous chefs. And then it went for $10,000. So, not so much success on the auction for us, unless you count our drooling over the deep pockets of the other fancier guests.

I also did a little bit of drooling on my newest itty bitty crush on Paul Gaustad. (Hi Paul! You handsome devil you! If you like mid thirties women who have given birth to three children, have stretch marks and regularly wear spanx, then call me, k? Let's make it happen!)