08.19.02 - 4:10 p.m.

Okay. This morning the "Press Your Luck" theme song was running through my head. Over and over. Then it was the theme from Super Mario Bros. Now it's "I Dream of Jeannie." What the hell is going on inside my head?

And now for my requisiste weekend adventure. Acire and Gerb are in town, making three-fourths of a His Dude reunion for Gerb's 21st birthday. Pheeellis thought it would be nice for us to spend Sunday together, but did not take into account the fact that my apartment is a good three hours from their home on the tip of Long Island.

I decided to take the train to Long Island after my haircut on Saturday rather than braving Sunday night Hamptons traffic on the LIE. Then I'd get one more night to hang out with them anyway. So, making plans with Gerb over the phone, I told her I'd call once I got on the train. Good deal. Not once did she mention her cell number or the fact that she didn't know how to retrieve the voicemails from the house phone should she and Acire leave the house.

I make the 3:14 train. I leave a voicemail. I disembark in Port Jefferson at 5:30. I leave another voicemail. I call Bassett out of boredom. It's 6:00. I call the house yet again, and this time Mortimer the Old-Timer (who is now 15 years old and rather hoodlum-ish) answers. Where are Acire and Gerb, I ask? Oh, they went to the mall three or four hours ago. I take a cab to the house (think gypsy cab from The Royal Tenenbaums - I really need to stop watching that movie) not two miles away from the station. Mort is no longer home, but true to form, has left the house unlocked for me. Has there ever been a time this family has locked a door? Also true to form, there's nothing to eat in the house but milk and microwave popcorn. So I hang out with Chairy the dog until Acire and Gerb finally return at 7 pm.

We watched every His Dude video ever produced, including some sledding footage and an all-but-forgotten rendition of En Weeg's "Yesterday." If Pheeellis would ever convert them to VHS or DVD, I'd be the happiest camper, but it was relief enough to see them all intact. Given her absentminded tendencies and moving habits, it's nothing short of a miracle.

But damn if that wasn't some good choreography on "Rock Around the Clock."

The next day provided more fun with Badly Planned Events, as Acire and Gerb decided they wanted to go to the beach. Fine, but that would have been nice to know when I was packing. Nary a bikini in my bag, and I wasn't taking well to the solution that I wear one of Gerb's - or her mom's. I made do with the tube top I DID bring and a pair of Gerb's shorts. Is it scary that Gerb and I now fit into the same clothes? I think she has bigger boobs than me, and this is a girl on whom spandex bike shorts used to hang loosely. I sweated it out for a few hours, forced down one of Pheeellis' tasty turkey dinners (note to Bass: new and not improved Jello salad!) and hopped back on the train.

Which was late at the Hicksville connection, which made me sprint to the Port Authority in under 10 minutes to catch the 9:30 bus, which wouldn't have happened if not for the fortunate timing of the subway. I attempted to read the revamped Rolling Stone - and no sir, I don't think I like it - and fell asleep to the soothing sounds of Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

Oh, and Bobby Trendy? Is the only reason I have to watch Anna Nicole. Luxurious! Honey, will you hold my Chanel?