No, not mafia men and caviar fights. We went to a Big Lebowski party last night. Complete at a bowling alley. And a billion white russians. Or at least enough to only slightly off-set my hypoglycemically balanced sugar levels.
No, really, me. And some tea.
I can now say I've survived a Hail and Bail. Well, more 'bail' for 2 outgoing members returning back to Norfolk, Virginia (say hi for us, and Downtown Norfolk deserves a hug). They're going on to bigger and better things.
Taking timer'd pictures of your self, while you're slightly hungover, with a dog who's like I wanna be in the shot too, Mom!, when you just want an IV of fluids is not fun. Thus you get the one picture.
You're welcome.
Super Bowl is today. I couldn't care less. Although food will be nice to eat. And I'll have many glasses of water. And I'll hang out with the wives that attend. Because you never can have too much estrogen...when half of the guys don't have even a friend with benefit.
Oh, let's get on topic of "What to do to piss me off?"
Don't be some lame-ass bitch who comments on this video of my nephew, calling the clip, "very lame." a.) I'll delete if, 'cuz YOU'RE A LAME ASS BITCH. b.) Last I checked, YouTube isn't where Scorsese uploads his later Oscar nom. It's a way to view pictures of that adorable-as-shit Little Man (who's turning one year soon!). c.) I checked our your page, and it's ridden with other stupid comments you leave on harmless clips. Oh, and they're ridden with typos. At least my excuse is that I'm hungover, drunk, going to be drinking, asleep, or just not caring. What's yours?
Yes, I deleted the comment.
Because he's super lame.
And the modern internet is a great way to visit with family when you live 1,000+ miles away thanks to the Navy. So let me quote Mr. Wookie for a minute, "You're welcome I'm protecting your freedom." You're probably Communistic.
I guess you can tell I like my family, will protect my family, and will bitch-slap any good-for-nothing troll. I'll even defend my mother's retarded cat...mainly because she has the ability to feed me with the tastes of trillion angels. And I like that.
Sweet Pea is yawning up a storm, but swears she wants to play. Well, which is it? Sleep or play? Because sleep sounds good. So you wanna cuddle?
Yes, someone is still in bed [ahem, Mr. Wookie].
No, Sweet Pea can't come close to getting in our bed. Nor will we let her.
We call it couch cuddling. And you best not be wearing nice pants. Because she drools more than...well...her nicknames include Drools McGee. Does that paint a picture?
Now will someone make me some toast? I'm kinda hungry. And I could use a refill of tea. It's Yogi Tea Ginger. Because I'm a ginger. And that's how I roll.
Yes, I know. Kinda lame.
Okay, I am a million times jealous of your night. Were there any urine soaked rugs that pulled the room together at the party?
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on surviving a Hail & Bail. My most recent really good (by which I mean "headsplittingly awful") hangover was directly attributable to such a party, and it was completely worth it.
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