Hootenanny! Shenanigans! Shindigs!

So I figured I'd throw in a quick post about yesterday, because Dylan's description was rather limited.

Last night, Kelley and I went out for a beverage, which was all well and good. The excitement started when we went over to Dylan, Sarah and Jessie's place, where rambunctious hootenanny ensued. Armed with a 24 of vodka and some sprite, Dylan and I silently competed for the awesome prize of best drinker. It was a tough call to say who would be the victorious one - especially when you threw in the wildcard variable of pot...

The evening was pleasant, and we played the who/what/where/when/why game, which stirred up everyone's inner vulgarity. Perversion and poop comments took center stage, with Radmacher being involved in every story, despite his absence from the household. What a powerful presence he must have, to be continuously referenced even when he's not there! But he was supposed to be there. O, where were the boys?

Scott was supposed to appear, seeing as it was his going away party. But apparently he thought it would be more fun to get drunk and miss it. We all shed a tear, and said an angry word or two. Who did that fiend think he was, skipping his own damn party?

Finally, the boys showed up, a party of two. We drank more, smoked more, and played more of the game, which became more intense by the minute. Inside jokes threatened to kill Dylan with laughter. Harsh words flew around about polyester pants and lab coats. Allysia and Radmacher engaged in an argument, their most favourite pasttime of all. And despite all of the madness, the night ended in handshakes and compassionate forgiveness. And, we suspect, a continual oblivion of the victim surrounded by a thick cloud of inside jokes - though Dylan and the boys came close to giving it all away.

Everyone began filtering out, journeying to their beds, or to future locations filled with booze. I found myself rather zippy and in no mood to call it quits. Luckily, Dylan was of the same mind. As everyone drifted off, we were the sole survivors of the party, intoxicated but going strong. The competition grew in intensity. We drank more, and Dylan fired up the bowl. Determined not to be shown up, I matched his move with vigor. Proudly, I held my self-control, and started on a long tangeant about particles, quarks, the akashic field, and the interconnectedness of all life. This proved to be a mighty force to Dylan, who could not digest my intellect. My motor skills were in better shape; it was looking as though I would win the party throne. That is, until Dylan threw the final punch. He fired it up; I had to follow. But it was downhill from there. In fact, the punch threw me down a great mountain, and I was defeated. Was it my fault for being so arrogant? Had I earned the shame?!

Though in my heart, I think we tied. Lasting until four in the morning, almost finishing the vodka, and me facing my deep, dark smoking fears, while still being coherent and alert - we both were the champions. Hopefully Dylan agrees.

Anyway, I should actually go do something productive now. Enjoy family day!

Allysia