Monday, December 18, 2006

You have to learn how to die, if you wanna be alive

The War on War



Yesterday was the N's birthday, and thanks to everyone who participated in Sat. morning wargames on the side of a LC mountain (paintball: where boys are men and girls are... targets?) Actually, I'll have you know that the womenfolkz fared extremely well, even when pitted against such enemies as the Capital Offense Paintball Collective (coordinated team with laser-guided weapons, embroidered, personalized flak jackets, and camo on EVERYTHING.) My Adidas stripes were glaringly obvious, now that I'm comfortable with brandishing a paint-filled weapon, expect face paint next time. I liked it more than I should have.

Don't Touch that Jukebox

And then D. showed up at our house bearing slightly pornographic cards and a bottle of Grey Goose; we went out to get drankin with some people we knew and some we didn't but who seemed awesome all the same. The night turned into a rotating "This is Your Life, Drinking Beer" style function. Thanks again for showing up. For those of you who left early-ish, I am just sorry that you missed the wave of rowdy folks who brought glorious things like "Clash of the Titans" on DVD and their storytelling abilities. (totally enraptured, btw.) Also a super-freakout between the N's old coworker and myself when we realized we grew up in the same county and spent time babysitting each others friends and siblings in the same village composed of 30 PEOPLE, prompting an OBNOXIOUS squeal-fest that included drawing maps of our childhood hangouts and where we used to build forts and stuff. Totally, totally, totally obnoxious.

Award-winning conversation of the night:

"So I dated this guy in college who..."

"I thought you said, 'I dated this gynecologist..."

"Wow, the story would have been much better that way."


Good Eats

I spent all day yesterday folding laundry and watching shows on primordial dwarves. Last night the family was over at our house. 7 hours were spent trying to teach Gramps how to work a cell phone, til he exclaimed he didn't give a damn and threw it on the floor. I have never eaten so much food as I have the last two or three months of my life. 740 pounds of pure sweet Governess action. The N got a camcorder, so: my apologies, You Tube.

(extra special happy birthday edition to you too, btw.)

3 comments:

Emily said...

But wait--it gets better. You left out the end of that conversation, which I believe went a little something like, "I dated a gynecologist who was really into Batman."

The Governess said...

you're right, that is better.

Becks said...

Happy Birthday, N! Hope it was spectacular!