I missed you.

I'm terribly sorry for my lack of postage recently.  I would like to tell you that I've been off doing really cool things but I have no idea what I've been doing.  Not a clue.  On one of these days I was driving down the road and I had an aha moment.  Regardless of what I may tell you from time to time {esp in my next post}, I have an awesome life.  I have the world's best friends.  And the world's best family.  I'm exactly where I need to be in life right now but more importantly - I am exactly where I want to  be.  I love all you assholes.  Here we go:

Monday:  Knowing that I didn't have to get up and work the next day forces me to go out and get haaaawaaaaaasted.  Like my bar tab was so high because I was buying shots for everyone I'm embarrassed to tell you the final tally.  When I finally leave there is a torrential downpour.  Did I mention that I walked there?  Obviously the walk home was super fun.

Tuesday:  the official start of my vacation.  I awoke with a beautiful pounding in my head and a tinge of nausea.  Delish.  I head over to my parents where I spend the majority of the day cleaning their house and trying to prepare it for the onslaught of family that would be coming throughout the next week.  It can be quite burdensome carrying the throne of favorite child.  I finally get to head out and get a mani/pedi.  There is no day-long hangover that a mani/pedi can't ease.  My upstairs digits got a fresh coat of Rising Star while my piggies are rocking Russian Navy.

Wednesday:  My "me" day.  I went and got my hair did.  More blond because... well, it was necessary. I stop by my mother's on my way home and get wrangled into going to the grocery store the day before Thanksgiving.  {Again, favorite child = kiiiind of annoying}  An eternity later, I make my way home, do a load of laundry and head out to the annual O'Leary Turkey Fry.  I guess a lot of people haven't had the opportunity to feast on fried turkey but it's so good.  Anyway, all the men in the family start drinking at 2-ish and the party doesn't stop until all of the birds are fried.  I believe the total number this year was around 20ish - at an hour a bird... you do the math.  That's a lot of beer.  Fer, my cousin Jen and I head over to my parent's house to drink some more and head out for a night on the town.  Jen opted out while Fer and I went over to a friend's house.  A long time and too much of the sauce later we make it over to Casa de Fer and this is what happened.

Our love for pork goes deep.

Yup.  That's my best friend since forever hugging bacon.  And sausage.

Thanksgiving:  I attempt to help my mother avoid the inevitable freak out mode.  I fail.  50+ people were in attendance and my parents' A/C goes out.  Brilliant.  Luckily someone, somewhere invented alcohol.  Freak out mode happens.  The whole family arrives.  We feast.

{Side bar"My family has an unhealthy obsession with Sister Schubert rolls.  It's not Thanksgiving without them.  My mother put my grandmother in charge of the rolls and she brought some abomination.  Something someone, somewhere MAY call bread but other people usually refer to them as bricks.  I already told my dad I was not going to be the one to break it to his mother that she's un-invited to next year's Thanksgiving.  I feel like that's something he should obviously be doing.}

Moving on... we drink too much, we eat too much, we miss Super T.  Tragedy, I know.

Friday:  Worst. Morning. Ever.  As I told you before, we had to get family pictures taken.  I shamed my mother enough to convince her that all of us dressing the same was a lame idea {thank freaking god}.  Over 30 of us gather and take more pictures than I typically take in a decade.  Meanwhile, my mature family pulls out a FART MACHINE and is pressing it at every chance possible.  That poor photographer may never take another picture after what we put him through.  After this horrid experience, I lie to my family and tell them I have plans and go hide out in my house for a few hours.  We then go out and celebrate my grandma's 80th birthday and head to Broseph's house for the after party.  Jen and I head to the gas station and pick up some "JungleJoos."  I have no idea what this is.  I know they call it a "premium malt beverage" and that it looks a lot like hazardous waste.

This party obviously calls for a drinking game.  Said drinking game required a little bit of rhyming.  In case you were wondering, storage rhymes with orange.  Genius.  Jen, Fer and I grow tired of this party and decide to go show off our pipes at Windjammer.  Windjammer spikes their beer - maybe with roofies?  Jen and I decide it's a good idea to go to an after-hours bar in midtown.  {It's never a good idea}.  After McDonalds breakfast around 7am: we make it make to Jen's hotel.

Saturday:  I wake up.  A little confused as to my surroundings.  I take one whiff of myself {Windjammer and Alex's are both smoking bars} and I projectile vomit.  Cuuuuute.  Hangover, hangover, hangover.  Germantown Commissary, bed.

Sunday:  I didn't get out of my pajamas.  I ate Chinese food.  I recovered.  Ish.

Monday:  Work is stupid.  I talk to my dad and he asks me when I'm going to start my program.  What program?  AA.  I told him whenever he did.  He chuckles and in the background I can hear the popping of a beer can.  Keep it classy, Ricky-poo.  Keep. It. Classy.  I go down to a friend's and watch Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken.  If you don't know this movie, please go check it out.  It's beauty and grace circa 1991.

In other news, Monday was also my parents 30th anniversary.  So cute.  This song is not for them... it's actually for Fer and Jen.  I may never remember our rendition of this song but I'm sure it was gnarly.