The Boy's mother is visiting, and we took her to Trudy's tonight, where she was a bit confounded by queso. She wanted to know what it was (CHEESE, my god lady, it is MELTED CHEESE!), and then wanted to make sure she was doing it right. Is there a wrong way to do queso? I find that licking the bowl is perfectly acceptable. Though, to be clear, only I am allowed to lick the bowl. Your tongue may come nowhere near my queso. We can always tongue kiss after I eat my queso; I suppose I am open to that.
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I know I promised to discuss my Boston trip, but it seems so far away now. My little fantasy bubble has popped, and I'm back to being my typical curmudgeonly self, which mainly consists of being resentful at work, and grumpy at home. They don't call me Grumples for nothing.
Basically, I had tons of fun with Ivy Vyne, Double-N and Laroux. I ate way too much food, steadily drank alcohol, froze my ass off and then mysteriously got it back while sleeping, did some accidental trick-shots during a few games of pool, and fired my first gun (where I am so terrible at it, that instead of shooting the target, I actually shot an overhead light out...no really, that's exactly what I did. I think I almost cried in embarrassment, but The Boy texted me to say it's okay, because it's exactly what Ian McCulloch would have done). There was the night of Settlers of Catan where I kicked ass and built the longest road known to Catanians. Double-N's roommate drunkenly felt up my arm while everyone else was discussing some Disney DVDs on the shelf. This only happens to me, I swear.
It was an amazing trip. I will be back in the late summer to fetch Ivy Vyne, and bring her back to Austin, permanently (mwuhuhuhuh-huh). Oh, and I was bit by her dog my first night there. Loup bit me. That rascally, over-protective bitch. She's going to be a medium-small ball of angry fun in the car during our roadtrip. I look forward to her biting my cheek and making me go deaf with her incessant barking. Joy!
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I blame this banana for making me such a bad shot.
Though, I guess this gun made me a little jittery, too.
Sadly, I have no picture of the light I shot out--I was too busy crying on the inside, and avoiding eye contact with everyone. I didn't take many pictures while I was there--I was too preoccupied with it not being my real life. Or I was too drunk, possibly too cold, and definitely really sleepy (I always end up having a cold when I go to New England--it is beyond a coincidence now, my body must be trying to tell me something). And, my dear bowls of melted cheese, that, that was Boston.
___________________________________________________________
I know I promised to discuss my Boston trip, but it seems so far away now. My little fantasy bubble has popped, and I'm back to being my typical curmudgeonly self, which mainly consists of being resentful at work, and grumpy at home. They don't call me Grumples for nothing.
Basically, I had tons of fun with Ivy Vyne, Double-N and Laroux. I ate way too much food, steadily drank alcohol, froze my ass off and then mysteriously got it back while sleeping, did some accidental trick-shots during a few games of pool, and fired my first gun (where I am so terrible at it, that instead of shooting the target, I actually shot an overhead light out...no really, that's exactly what I did. I think I almost cried in embarrassment, but The Boy texted me to say it's okay, because it's exactly what Ian McCulloch would have done). There was the night of Settlers of Catan where I kicked ass and built the longest road known to Catanians. Double-N's roommate drunkenly felt up my arm while everyone else was discussing some Disney DVDs on the shelf. This only happens to me, I swear.
It was an amazing trip. I will be back in the late summer to fetch Ivy Vyne, and bring her back to Austin, permanently (mwuhuhuhuh-huh). Oh, and I was bit by her dog my first night there. Loup bit me. That rascally, over-protective bitch. She's going to be a medium-small ball of angry fun in the car during our roadtrip. I look forward to her biting my cheek and making me go deaf with her incessant barking. Joy!
___________________________________________________________
I blame this banana for making me such a bad shot.
Though, I guess this gun made me a little jittery, too.
Sadly, I have no picture of the light I shot out--I was too busy crying on the inside, and avoiding eye contact with everyone. I didn't take many pictures while I was there--I was too preoccupied with it not being my real life. Or I was too drunk, possibly too cold, and definitely really sleepy (I always end up having a cold when I go to New England--it is beyond a coincidence now, my body must be trying to tell me something). And, my dear bowls of melted cheese, that, that was Boston.
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