Obrigada.
Hello all. What to say? Camping was amazingly fantastic, just like it always is. I rediscovered my passionate love for balls and sausage, ate, drank, and smoked as much as I giggled, passed out both nights in my jeans with dirty feet, and to top it all off, somehow spent the wee-est hours of Sunday morning fooling around in the sand down by the creek with the most conservative hippy-hater in the group. (For this last item, I assign partial blame to Kristin and Jen for whipping up a drunken and contagious sexual frenzy, which I never stood a chance of resisting.)
Tonight I mucked around in this foul-smelling swamp on my parents' new property and drank wine out of the bottle with my mom. On the way home we stopped at Burger King to pick up a greasy dinner, and I barely had time to wash the dried mud off of my arms before I was out the door to go see "Talladega Nights" in St. Helens with Matt Nash (who, by the way, I wish to be my platonic boyfriend for all of eternity). It did for me what all of Will Ferrel's movies have done: provoke initial groans and rolling of the eyes, which slowly give way to riotous laughter and foot stomping, and ending, of course, with the urge to nod my head slowly and initiate the Slow Clap.
Good times, I say. Good times. :)
Tonight I mucked around in this foul-smelling swamp on my parents' new property and drank wine out of the bottle with my mom. On the way home we stopped at Burger King to pick up a greasy dinner, and I barely had time to wash the dried mud off of my arms before I was out the door to go see "Talladega Nights" in St. Helens with Matt Nash (who, by the way, I wish to be my platonic boyfriend for all of eternity). It did for me what all of Will Ferrel's movies have done: provoke initial groans and rolling of the eyes, which slowly give way to riotous laughter and foot stomping, and ending, of course, with the urge to nod my head slowly and initiate the Slow Clap.
Good times, I say. Good times. :)