Pants On My Beer

I loves me a 3 day weekend, especially one that includes a visit from my best friend, Angel.

I met Angel up at the campground her family was visiting, and we got to hang out and catch up on about a year's worth of girly talk and philosphical musings on shower caps (actually, the shower caps conversation came later, but it was still very heavy stuff).

Later that evening, Cory and I met up with Aaron, Sara and Bethany at Mickey Finn's, where an art show was taking place. Sara and Bethany were very drunk, and it was very funny. Sara is my favorite drunk person on the planet, ever. Seriously.

My 2 favorite quotes of the night were, "You know you're drunk when you bring Santa Claus into it. Silly cunt." and Sara yelling, "Don't spill pants on my beer! You spilled pants on my beer!!"

The picture above is Matt telling me he thinks Sara is crazy, and the one below is one of many attempts to get a semi-decent picture of me and the ladies on the never-ending walk to our cars. I'm pretty sure we lost Aaron out there. I also heard that Sara kept trying to make Aaron drop her off on the side of the road on the way home cause she wanted to go for a walk. At 3 a.m. In the worst neighborhood in town.

On Sunday, I went out to my first place of employment for breakfast with my mom and Grandma. While we were eating, the owner came through asking, "Is there a doctor or a nurse here? Is anyone here a nurse or a doctor?" I thought that only happened in the movies, but no, it happens in real life, too. I guess a woman passed out, or something along those lines, as a result of something blood-related, and the emergency people weren't getting there fast enough. They were there when we were leaving and my old manager made some snide comment about how the ambulance being there "made the restaurant look bad." She's just the sweetest thing, I tell you what. And no, I'm not just saying that cause she started a rumor that I was an alcoholic after I left that job.

Anyhoo. Later that night, Cory, Dustin, Bobby, and I went to a get together at Jim's, who lives a street or two away from us. Ridiculous hijinx ensued, the kind you only find when Jim's around, and the only picture I feel comfortable posting in my blog is this one of Jess and Kowalski:

P.S. The un-bloggable pictures do not include me, Cory, Bobby, or Dustin. We were not the issue. And we kept our clothes on.

Special note to anyone who sees me drunk from now on: Beware my drunk-talk. If you see me getting tipsy, point me in the direction of one of my little sisters and we will drunk-talk at/over each other and everyone else will be safe.

On Monday, Cory, Dustin and I went out to breakfast and Dustin made a joke that the waitress took the wrong way, and she then proceeded to go off on a racist tirade that left the 3 of us feeling a bit squicky. Dustin's joke wasn't even racist in nature, so I'm not sure what happened there...

I met up with Angel later at my parent's house and we visited with my parents, got ignored by my sister, picked raspberries and purple green beans, and ate some BBQ.

Oh, and went out for ice cream. Delicious ice cream.

After the ice cream, Angel had to go home, which is sad. I definitely don't see her enough and hopefully we'll be able to get together a few times before another year goes by. I'm thinking a Thelma and Louise-type cross-country road trip in a vintage convertible, but with less accidental murder and driving off of cliffs. Oh, and I would prefer not to be robbed by Brad Pitt, shirtless or not.