First, thank you so much to everyone who took that little side journey to Serious Storyville with me on my last post. Your comments and support truly mean the world to me. *huge gropes hugs*
We’re gonna loop back around now though, and head back to the inanity as normal, and I can think of no better way to do this than to give a (very brief because I’m stupid busy with work and with attempting to go through boxes of shit with only one hand) synopsis of my St. Patrick’s Day with my dear Jewels. And, as the title states, shenanigans did occur. As they are apt to do when you start slamming Irish Car Bombs before 6pm.
FYI–I’d come to the conclusion that the reason that I got sick the last time that Jewels and I got together was because there was no alcohol involved, so these Bombs were for medicinal purposes.
Jewels covered the event pretty brilliantly in her tweets, but in case you missed it, here’s a breakdown:
- Irish music played by a quartet of white-haired gents
- I hicggled and Jewels blessed me. (Def.: Hicggle-the sound that Kat makes when she hiccups and giggles at the same time because she’s mental and thinks that hiccuping is a hilarious sensation so she starts giggling halfway through all hiccups–whether caused by alcohol or not.)
- An anecdote from Jewels which has made it so that I will never be able to look at a meerkat without snickering again
- More Irish Carbombs
- More Guinness
- Guinness swag!
- Getting jiggy with it in the St. Pat’s tent where the DJ was dropping it
- I sloshed beer on my splint (brilliant idea to try and hold a beer in your lame paw)
- I dropped my beer (again, brilliant idea to try and hold a beer in your lame paw)
- House of Pain! “Jump Around”! (very appropriate because the paw was starting to smart–though I did still jump around like a motherfucking champ)
- A fellow party-goer expressed concern to Jewels over my state of intoxication. Jewels had to inform her that I was sober (which I unfortunately was at this point or the paw would not have been smarting) and dropping shit and stumbling and jumping around is normal for my klutzy/immature ass.
- The band came on and they weren’t bad, but it was definitely more fun to watch Jewels eye-fuck the sax player.
- “There are, like, three kinds of fluid on my feet. And it’s not cool.”–Jewels during our trip to the ladies’ loo.
- Back to my mother’s house where I kicked my brother off of the television and we had a go at the Michael Jackson dancing game on the Wii.
- We danced one game and I crashed into a pile of boxes from my move. (I’d blame it on the Tylenol 3 I’d taken for the paw when we got back to the house, but again, I’m a klutz.) ((This is also one of the reasons that I’m shoving “unpacking” into my overwrought schedule.))
- Chilling at the kitchen table with Mumma because she adores Jewels almost as much as I do.
- Horny cats screaming under my mother’s car
In other weekend news, I noticed that my bag of Q-tips is actually a bag of “paper sticks”. It seriously says that, and 24 hours later I’m still fascinated. But enough about me, how was your weekend, my loverlies?