Remember in this post I said I might not always have time to come up with clever and funny blog entries this summer? That self fulfilling prophecy has turned out to be true because I find it almost impossible to construct a single sentence with all the fighting and attempting to beat the crap out of each other that starts the minute the offspring wake up which forces me to constantly get up off my chair and put the hammer down on one of them (It’s also why I had to suspend my “no drinking during the week” rule because if it were not for alcohol, I would slowly go cuckoo insane). So remember how I said I might just post about what I’ve been up to so my readers (and you seventeen people know who you are) wouldn’t click on the ‘don’t follow’ button and leave me in the dust?
This is one of those posts. And just so you know, my behavior and maturity level is sometimes akin to that of a seventeen year old boy (but I have a shitload of fun wherever I go so deal).
We started off at Clive after Five which is an outdoor drinking thing in the ‘burb where I live. It was kinda lame and I think the turnout was low because there’d been a big rainstorm earlier in the day and maybe people thought they’d melt or something. Wussies. We still showed up and had a great time. Later we re-located to a bar super close to the ‘hood where we sang Karaoke for the next several hours. Despite my constant badgering, Dave refused to sing “Afternoon Delight” with me like he used to when we were dating. I sang “Let Me Be There” by Olivia Newton John and then Julie and I sang “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” and “Convoy.” Yes, really. We pretty much had the bar and the microphones to ourselves because the place was dead. We finished up the night with all of us singing Madonna’s “Material Girl.”
My friend Janice was in town and she came to visit Dave and me the next night. Here’s a picture of us after we’d been drinking on the patio for uh, a while. Check out our shiny Chardonnay eyes.
It was super hot here in Iowa so I put together a buffet of cold food and made sure there was a bottle of wine in the ice bucket on the table in front of us at all times. I would have taken a picture of all the empty bottles and posted it here on this blog but there were so many of them I was embarrassed (♫ they tried to make us go to rehab but we said, no, no, no……♪).
Janice wanted me to make crack dip because she had never had it. She loved it so much we actually had it again for breakfast the next day, along with some leftover chicken salad from the night before. Side note: Even though I did reach my goal of losing 25 lbs. on WW (25.5 to be exact) back in April, my diet the last six weeks has included a frightening amount of cream cheese, mayonnaise, guacamole, and alcohol and now I’m too skeered to step on the scale because I’m afraid the spring on it will explode with a big boing! I totally plan on addressing this problem and getting back on track but not until after the fourth of July holiday weekend.
I gave Janice a jar of Archer Farms roasted pineapple and habenero dip to take with her, along with the recipe for crack dip. The following paragraph is an excerpt from an e-mail I received from Janice after she got home:
P.S. That fucking TSA whore took your jar of shit for the crack dip. I knew I was taking a chance but I thought hey, what can they possibly think I am doing with this? But, I also didn’t want it breaking in my suitcase since it’s glass. She better hope that I can get that stuff at my target!!!!
At least Janice was wise enough not to tangle with the TSA. Trish, not so much.
This weekend we kicked off the night by attending a friend’s birthday party at a bar up the street. My friend Stacy has been in town for her annual visit to Iowa to see her family and she, Amy, Trish, Dave, and I headed out to see what kind of trouble we could get in.
Somehow my shoe broke and Amy tried to McGyver a solution out of dental floss and a buffalo wing stained napkin. Fail. I’d rather go barefoot.
They were giving out plastic cups at the bar for everyone at the birthday party to write their names on. Just so you know, we are not grown up enough to have beer and a sharpie at the same time. And if you left your plastic cup unattended on the table when you went to the bathroom, upon your return there would most definitely be some dirty words written in big, black, permanent capital letters (cock gobbler being my favorite). I never let my glass out of my sight but I did write “Princess” under my name because it sounded much prettier than some of the other words.
That’s all I’ve got for today. I’m still working on some other posts so hopefully I’ll have something to put on this blog later in the week.
P.S. Sandy the Yeti walked by her sliding glass door while we were out on our patio Saturday night. In a nightgown. Shudder.