yo
Okay, so. Lots to talk about, and I failed all of yesterday on posting anything, and then this morning I got the oh joy of driving my grandmother to the emergency room because her shoulder was hurting her a whole hell of a lot (and that was fun; getting grandma to see a doctor is like painting the toe nails of a bull moose--excedingly difficult).
Friday night: I drank. Soooooo much. And yet? Not hungover, never blacked out, and almost all of my drinks had absofuckinglutely ridiculous names. I took pictures.
This is a Screaming Zombie.
I don't even know. It has five different kinds of alcohol in it, two of which are rum. Two inches into this drink and I--well, I wasn't seeing double, exactly? But people had definitely more than one edge. *hands*
So then--I don't know how this happened? Oh, wait, right, the WAITRESS was an old highschool classmate of mine (with an 18 month old kid) started chatting with my friends (one of whom is older and more experienced in the land of ridiculous drinks) and they were like, "YOU'VE NEVER HAD A TRASH CAN?" (This became a theme of the evening. You've never had a [insert drink]?? FUCK THAT.)
So. Trashcan.
There was like. I guess there was banana liquor in the bottom? Tasted almost exclusively of red bull, which was gross, but I drank it. No one will ever be able to say I've never had a Trash Can ever a fucking gain.
AND THEN. "You've never had a Long Island Iced Tea?"
This is actually what I had originally wanted to get out of this evening. I wanted a screaming zombie and a long island iced tea. I didn't get a pic of it--by this point, I think you should be able to guess why, but the next pic should explain why I felt I was no longer allowed to attempt taking pictures.
SO AFTER THAT. "Oh my god, you've never had a BLOW JOB?"
Alright, this pic was not taken by me, but by someone who could actually work a focus.
I couldn't actually tell you what's in a blow job. All I can tell you is that the whipped cream? Was 30 FUCKING PROOF.
But I guess the thing with a blow job (Hey hi by the way, HAPPY EASTER) the thing with a blow job is that traditionally you are not allowed to use your hands. But the fucking shot glass. Was too big. For my mouth. So I had to, like, slurp it and then at the end bite the edge of the shot glass and tip it up--dude, I fucking OWNED IT.
And after I owned it i took this picture:
You will notice my ability to focus a camera was not so fucking well owned....
BUT GUYS. GUYS, LIGHTWEIGHT WRESTLING WAS ON. AND OH, OH THE GAY JOKES. WITH NONSLASHY TYPE PEOPLE. IT WAS LIKE ALL MY LJ BBS WERE THERE WITH ME.
So anyway, gots to run, we're off to a concert. *SMUSH* And I was remarkably unhungover, which i blame on celebrating Jesus's death. Woot.