So many wild and wonderful things happened this weekend, I hardly know where to begin. I shall, therefore, begin where most people begin things: [Everyone! Sing along!] When reading we begin with a-b-c [a-b-c!]. In singing we begin with do-re-me [do-re-me!]. In blogging we begin with ... the middle [in media res!].
Yesterday, I met Jake. He's very cool. We went to Halo for drinks (2-for1!). Robert joined us. Then, we ran into Ray and Joey and went to Logan Tavern for dinner. Surprisingly, I found Joey to be quite entertaining this time. Maybe I was more drunk than usual. Or maybe he was...
The only other exciting Saturday events were 1) my haircut [It looks fabulicious] and 2) a cop got shot in the leg about 2 blocks from John's house and about 1 hour before I walked by on my way to the Metro station. Fun!
Friday's bowling happy hour was too much fun! I scored 120 the second game! I would have a picture to prove it, but in my rather intoximacated state, I forgot to save it. *curses stupid cell phone camera save button* Of course, in the third and final game, I outdid myself with a score of 40. Yes, I rock. And, my ass hurts [stupid proper bowling form].
Here's the fun phone conversation I had with John the next day:
Me: Bowling was fun, but my ass hurts from trying to use proper bowling form.
John: You should start going to the gym.
Me: Or I could just stop bowling.
Here's the fun first-ever conversation I had with the (temporarily reformed) Skankified Ho's new boyfriend at the bowling alley:
S. Ho: Connor, this is Steven.
Steven: Hi, Connor. Nice to meet you.
Connor: Oh, Steven. Yeah. Sometimes [Skankified Ho] calls out "Steven!" during sex. I wondered who that was.
Steven: [shocked silence]
S. Ho: [shocked silence]
Steven: I really don't know what to say to that. [walks away]
Um. Yeah. Like what-the-fuck was that?
Finally, today, when I went home to feed my pussy, I noticed that my bright orange messenger bag was on the floor. "Didn't I put that on the chair when I was last here," I thought to myself.
I bent down, picked up the messenger bag, and -GAH!- there was a FLAT LITTLE MOUSE underneath it! GAH!
Wrong time? Wrong place for mouseykins? Did Psychokitty Isabella, Giver of Vomit of Joy, Attacker of Feet Which Move in the Night, Killer of Alien Crickets give herself a new moniker?
My best guess is that Isabella caught the mouse and played with it until she got bored. Then, she hopped up on the chair, knocking the messenger bag over, which smashed the mouse into a little mouse pancake. Whatever happened, though, the results were totally gross.
Dead mice are never pretty. [Words to live by, those are.]
On that note, I think I'm going to make a margarita and sit in the sun.