He kind of looks like Chuck Bass with that hair, doesn't he?
Well that was an extended absence if I've ever seen one. I realized that the date of my last post on this here blog was Thursday. My many profuse apologies. I'd brag about the numerous ways in which three-day weekends kick some azz but that's just beating a dead horse, in't? On Thursday evening I joined a hearty handful of others and watched the premiere of The Office, along with a hearty handful of the rest of America. I think that episode can be summed up best by Mike's Facebook status the next day: OMG, Toby broke his neck???
Oh, em gee, indeed. The weekend held a veritable cornucopia of activities ranging from political (the debate on Friday) to partying (Barrett's going away party, drinks at Golden Gopher with the AA crowd), but nothing breached bipartisan lines by reaching into the depths of our crusty old souls and massaging our lifeless 20-something hearts into the beating, warm fuzzies quite like the party we had on Sunday. In honor of Jessica, Mike, and Tyler getting one year older, we surprised them and said, "We're gonna party like it's 1992."
Dressed as we were in the scruffy duds of our youth and caked to the nose in Cheeto crumbs and lollipop residue, we got down with our childhood selves. We ate PB&J's, kicked around a soccer ball, blew bubbles, climbed trees, and took naps. And there was a piñata. Nothing ignites the flames of youthfulness quite like an afternoon bender of Airheads, cookies, and vodka Kool-Aid. Oh, yeahhhh.
So here's to getting another year older. We may not look it, but we swear our hearts are young.
Juiceboxes and gummy worms and...aviators? Well, ok.
Cups o' dirt