Birthday Party Adventures

I know I am the most unreliable and absentee blogger in all blogging history. I apologize, and appreciate your continued patience. You have to understand, man, I compose these beautiful impromptu passages of prose while I'm in the shower, on my bike, working, or doing whatever other repetitive, medatory tasks come my way during my day. Unfortunately, due to the nature of these tasks, I simply don't have my hands free to write. Aside from that, the train of thought seems to be fueled by the repetitive motion. If I was to pull my bike over and jot down a note, the rest of the thought would just dissipate like a dream when you aren't dreaming it anymore. So incase you were thinking of pulling the plug, don't! There is higher brain activity present.

As far as what's been happening recently, I wanted to go to the movies, and had the opportunity, but passed it up in favor of chilling with the husband. Actually, we both decided we'd rather just sit around and talk than go see the new Transformers movie. When did we get so old?

We did however, go to a birthday party. Me being me, the Token Bi Chick Disaster, an ordinary birthday party experience was metamorphasized into an adventure of Jumanji proportions. First, I directed my husband to the wrong party. I was only a block off, and the birthday girl was very sweet about us crashing her party, but all the same, the moonwalk in the backyard should have tipped me off. Whoops. At the correct birthday party, I managed to not only drop a beer on the driveway, I then also dropped a drunk chick on my foot. Sometimes it hurts to be this cool.

The beer dropping wasn't all that exciting, really. I had the bottle wrapped in a napkin because it was cold, and the napkin slipped. It did look however, like I just threw a bottle at my husband. >:) A few hours later, the drunk chick decided she didn't feel like wearing shoes anymore and some considerate soul noticed that we never swept the broken glass off the driveway. She had plopped down nearly on ground zero and was refusing to get up. I said I'd make her move, she said I couldn't, and then the machismo kicked in. I picked her up, completely forgetting that she was about twice my size, and more importantly, drunk, and would therefore be less than helpful in controlling her weight. When I lost control, she went down on top of me. :) Then I had to sit there with my leg pinned down until someone helped her up.

So now my right ankle is all shades of purple and red and I just whacked it on the leg of my desk. Will I ever stop?