Blogga, I missed you, kind of. Today, I've spent seven hours in the back of a jeep with a dog who licks his own ass breathing in my face. Also, I hover-style-peed in a Norge, VA Kentucky Fried Chicken that hasn't had a soap dispenser since Clinton was hanging round DC, and then watched my husband order in the SAME DRIVE THROUGH and eat biscuits made from the workers unwashed hands. Baby, tillykke med fødselsdagen to me.
But, my vacation was spectacular, and I can state with pretty much certainty that none of you drunkenly (whiskey) filmed a zombie car crash movie with your friends new video camera-thingy as the clock struck 12, alright. I'm totally having a screeening soon. There is a chick-fight scene that is epic (I pull hair), and we are some ad-lib geniii. That, my friends, is a way to ring in a new fucking year.
Other hi-lites of the little vacation that could included the consumption of $300 or so worth of groceries; "App. to App." game which is hilarity in a party crate, woot woot; "Fishing with John" videos that remained unwatched but still looked pretty funny; and I bought a tee shirt with alion on it and several pairs of new pants that are kind of like Mom-jeans. I am one short half-skip away from the backs of all my pants being elastic already, it is that hot. The N received a hand-grip strength measuring device to celebrate the birth of the Christ child. We spent five days in serious competition as to who has the strongest grip. I can't find the actual version, it's digital and talks to you and gives your strength-score via robot voice. I, by the way, am pretty strong.
Also, we went bowling during Russian disco night. Lots of blacklights and Guess jeans.
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(Personal to Catherine: Toni Morrison. I win.)