Last night was a big night out for me. It was a "make up" St. Patrick's Day party. Last week's was cancelled for some reason that I am not completely sure of, but that is ok. Every day can be St. Patrick's Day for me, I don't care.
I spent most of the day leading up to the big bash, cleaning, taking kids to egg hunts, baking cakes, coloring eggs, etc. So, when it came time to don my "Everyone loves an Irish girl" tee shirt from Target, and hit the streets looking for a pot of gold, I was more than ready.
I met my friends at a local pub. It was by no stretch of the imagination, a pub. But let's call it that for shits and giggles, k? I had already bought a ticket...and so I was granted admission to the par-tay. Some of the local favorites were hanging out...oh...look, there is my 65 yr old neighbor over there...let's not make eye contact...everyone was already established at a table in the back. The "big" buffet, that the tickets promised, was actually a table with a few things...and GREEN chocolate flowing from a fountain. I found this completely disturbing...but indulged anyway. It was fun. There was a lot of laughing...some boy nipple comparing...more laughing...much drinking...at one point, I busted out the "robot" move from my 8th grade dance moves. There were some other fun things...then, I found myself looking at a girl/woman's ass that I didn't really know. She was bent over...and her butt was BEGGING me to smack it. So! SMACK! omg. I didn't! Turns out I did. Not sure who was more embarrassed...but I didn't say "...gave that big booty a smack..." which is what was playing in my head...so I guess I should consider myself lucky! I also spent a lot of time looking at this one redhaired man wearing a leprechaun hat. No sir. YES SIR!
So, my friend JKLMNOP walked me home...and it was upon entering the house, that I remembered I had to hid eggs and make the baskets. Not a good idea. Hiding the eggs involved me wrestling them out of the dogs mouth, because he apparently thought they would taste good. Making the baskets didn't go so well...especially since I would get one made up, have to stop to wrestle the dog, and then fuck it up when I tried to finish. I ended up stacking the shit inside the basket in no organized manner, shoved eggs further under the couch than the dogs head could reach, and called it a night.
I was, of course, not done. At the top of the steps was Little, with a tooth in his hand. Uhm? How did you lose a tooth in the middle of the night? He says he wiggled it. I couldn't be sure that the toothfairy had any ones left, so I mumbled something about it being too late tonight, but that the toothfairy would be stopping tomorrow. Turns out, I did have some ones...so it was all good.
I woke up this moring to find 6 texts in my in box. 4 were from Cheryl. The most recent one said "Dude. You HIT on my brother." Clearly, she was texting the wrong person. I remember talking to her brother, but hitting on someone, I think I would know. A few more texts confirm that I MIGHT have hit on him. Which is funny, because of about a million things. Also, she thinks he was being retarded and that I am fine. No hitting. We did giggle that we could be related...but only 1/4...because she and her brother have recently discovered that they don't share the same dad...and neither of their dads are the man that they called "daddy" when they grew up...but that is for another day...
Oh. I also confirmed the robot dance and the ass smacking...those seem to be for true.