Daniels, what can I say about you?
Every day of the week has a corresponding alchohol reference ("Margarita Monday," "Tipsy Tuesday"...), thanks to drunken brainstorming. The crickets chirp approbations.
A wandering minstrel has been spotted from the dining room window. No one knows from whence he came - could he be a product of mass hallucination? Anything is possible when you've eaten so much food that colors start to blend.
While playing Taboo the other night, Krista tried to have me guess the word "pilgrim" by reminding me about a past birthday party. "Hey Emily, you had this birthday party a couple of years ago, blank and blank..." My answer? "Surprise and fuck!" Never have I been more taken aback - and jealous - of my own hypothetical birthday party.
Krista and I did win the Crazy Dance Contest, however, which I chalk up to a potent mix of Sex on the Beach featuring peach schnopps, eyeballed vodka shots, cranberry juice and other fruit derivations. Anything is possible with the right amount of mixed drank.
See you soon, real world!
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