Ah, it's time to celebrate. I had my reviews at work and as I've deemed myself all this time, it turns out that I truly am OUTSTANDING with a smattering of satisfactory-ness and absolutely no trace of unsatisfactory-ness...nope not me! Although, in second grade I did receive a U (unsatisfactory/ungradeable) in penmanship which cracks me up because people always compliments me on my handwriting. I believe that Mrs. D (the most vile second grade/non cuddly teacher ever) just hated the fact that I used my left hand to write. The horror!!

In updates-- Thanksgiving was very low key this year (along with every year). I had a nice dinner out with my mom (I don't like turkey or leftovers, but I do love options!), we went to the movies and then I hit the bars with T at around 6:30pm. I think that might've been our first mistake. We were drunken fools that night. I remember putting my head on the bar saying...."mmm, cool wood...wood is sooo cool?" However, it was pretty cool that not long after that the Cars song, "Drive" came on and it dawned on us--"Who's gonna drive [us] home?" It wasn't a subliminal message, it was a deliberate message from T's holiday man (the last time they hooked up was on Halloween)...so like the most awesome third wheel ever, they drove me home and then he took her home and ravaged her. I've now pledged to find all the minor holidays out there so that she can continue to hook up with him. We've marked Arbor Day, Flag Day and Secretary Day on his calendar already and we pledge to add more!

Friday night T, Chelle and I hit thitwbar together. T wasn't feeling too well, as she had puked in the parking lot after she finished work...she ran home, got changed and then met us straight at the bar. Notice I mentioned nothing of a shower??? I'm hoping that she at least rinsed her mouth out! Well somehow we switched roles. I think it had something to do with Chelle. When Chelle starts to get her buzz on she decides that shots are the only way to get drunk. I think if needles were available, she'd be having us mainline the booze. Seriously. And then it happened. Into thitwbar, from Perfectsville, marched the Miller girls...as in Miller Beer Girls. Very few heads at the bar turned but T and I became giddy like annoying bitches at the end of the bar because we had seen...Miller Lite terry cloth wrist bands. Did I mention that we were already mirthful and altered by liquors of all sorts?? Well I sold my email address and my photo for a pair of wrist bands and because we were so kind, polite and far less skeevy than the other patrons the Miller Lite Girls were about to encounter, they bought us a pitcher for our pleasure.

Halfway into the largest pitcher ever molded out of plastic, I leaned over with crazy fish eyes and attempted to focus on Chelle. "Chelle," I wrasped out in my "Grover voice" (apparently I have a Grover voice according to the girls), "You need to take me home. Now. Now." When she told me I just needed a glass of water and to relax, "I thrust my fist against the bar and begged, "Now." Trooper that she is---she took me home where I passed out quite lady-like on the couch about three feet from my front door. The girls went over to Hot Ronnie's and when they returned at my house around 4:30am, T whispered to me, "I NOW know why you call him Hot Ronnie...he sang "The Blower's Daughter" and I just thought, 'Holy Hotness!" " I nodded sagely and drifted back to sleep.