Hullo. I am...a bit hungover. I am more hungover than my father, which is absolutely not fair, considering he doesn't remember the last half of his birthday and collapsed sideways on his bed still wearing a cowboy hat and one sandal--at 9:30 pm. Before everyone had left.
SO. Yesterday was the Macho Bocce Ball Party, which, those of you around last
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(hmmmm, my tooth is hurting. *cuddles*)
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I want your family. SO MUCH.
(also, Hawaii 5-0 fic idea: Danny is an elite gymnast hiding it from the world. Please tell me not to write it, because otherwise I will.)
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O__O OH MY GOD DOOOOOOOOOOO ITTTTTTTTTTTT. Hnggggh I AM IMAGINING ALL THE OUTFITS.
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""Elite gymnastics is like, the navy seals, only harder. There are like 2000 navy seals, there are only like, 200 elite gymnasts. Guess that's because there's kids who's rather have a life than spend 6 hours a day training tricks that could kill you. Don't be fooled by the leotards, people, the things gymnasts do make navy seals look like wusses. And we do them without a gun. "
OH YES. OH YES.
No, I'm doing it. I am doing it SO HARD.
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But man. The pinata. The donkey. THE FUCKING SHARK. I do not even know. *hands*
Will you ask your family to adopt me??? Because I think my brand of crazy would fit right in, and I'm already acclimated to the weather, since I'm a Maritimer.... pleeeeeeeeeease? I don't have my own bowling ball, but I WILL GET ONE.
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Dude if they don't adopt you, I will. PROVIDED YOU GET YOSELF A BOWLING BALL, GURL.
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