Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Dynasty

So I had a party this weekend. On St. Patrick's Day, but not because of St. Patrick's Day. I'm far too sarcastic for that shizz. I bought some Lucky Charms to be festive, though. I put forth the effort. A fratty in a green shirt and beads (what is it with the fratties and their beads?) screamed "Who stole me Lucky Charms?!" in my face when he saw the box. I laughed and laughed. Because it was funny, but also because I knew he'd be the one at 2 in the morning, red-faced and sweating, clutching his buddy around the neck and kissing his ear, just like my dad used to do to my brother. The next morning they'd have to have a punching contest and discuss bozongas or melons or tits to eradicate any leftover gayness. (The fratties. Not my dad/brother. My dad bounced right back, grinding his coffee beans at 3:30 in the morning, and my brother went right back to giggling nervously and staring at his giant feet if he ever found himself in my dad's presence. They did have punching contests though. My dad would say, come on, buddy, hit me as hard as you can. Bro would politely protest and then, when prompted again, would hit my dad in his banker's arm with all the might of a child giant pissed off about being forced to go to scout camp. This automatically angered my father, despite his pleading for it, and the game would end with 'Go clean your room.')

Anyway. My point. JK has reminded me that I laid down to have my chalk outline drawn, as she just happened to have a giant piece of chalk handy. As I recall, I was shaped somewhat like Jabba the Hut if he went about on spindly legs. The best part about the story, however, is that I laid down NEXT TO THE DUMPSTERS LIKE IT WAS MY JOB. Thinking about it now, I realize my brother may not be the only one with a drinking problem. The first step is admitting, people!

Oh it was a good party. There were boobs, vomiting, an Ewok, bean dip, good music, people passing out on my bed(s), vodka, vodka, vodka, and gin. And many more things I can't wait to be reminded of.

Footballers' Wives is the best show in the whole wide world. It's ruining my life and I'm letting it. Words I've learned:

Slag
Nippy
Nappy
Knackered
Bloody
Balls'ed up
Wiv

And many more.

No comments: