I have gotten sucked into a full day marathon of America's Next Top Model Season 6. Unfortunately, I am starting to feel sick from too much tv. Perhaps I should get out of the house.
I went to a garden party on Friday night, except it wasn't pretty paths and flickering tiki lights so much as it was Bob Marley covers and bad beer kegs. Okay, it was a kegger. In a jungle back yard. By daylight, the yard was disappointing. The paths were bare and the bridges patched together. When the world became dark, finally, late into the night here so far north of the Equator in June, the bare ground disappeared and the bridges lit by candles were magical little connections to another world. There was nothing to drink but beer, and I hate beer, and after the consumption of a few too many salt-and-pepper chips (new discovery. amazing), I was ragingly thirsty. At 7-Eleven, I mixed all six flavors of Slurpee to create a mixture that I staunchly defended when people made fun of it, but was actually just as syrupy sweet disgusting as one can possibly imagine. Back in the garden, we thought about s'mores, and how we didn't have any, and then we grilled Double Stuf Oreos instead. This is actually a brilliant idea. The filling melts into a glaze that tastes suspiciously like it should be on an angel food cake. Delicious.
Wait. Are there Olympics again already? Why on earth do they come so often these days? The four year span was much, much more exciting, due to all the anticipation. Every two years is sort of, well, eh.
I went to a garden party on Friday night, except it wasn't pretty paths and flickering tiki lights so much as it was Bob Marley covers and bad beer kegs. Okay, it was a kegger. In a jungle back yard. By daylight, the yard was disappointing. The paths were bare and the bridges patched together. When the world became dark, finally, late into the night here so far north of the Equator in June, the bare ground disappeared and the bridges lit by candles were magical little connections to another world. There was nothing to drink but beer, and I hate beer, and after the consumption of a few too many salt-and-pepper chips (new discovery. amazing), I was ragingly thirsty. At 7-Eleven, I mixed all six flavors of Slurpee to create a mixture that I staunchly defended when people made fun of it, but was actually just as syrupy sweet disgusting as one can possibly imagine. Back in the garden, we thought about s'mores, and how we didn't have any, and then we grilled Double Stuf Oreos instead. This is actually a brilliant idea. The filling melts into a glaze that tastes suspiciously like it should be on an angel food cake. Delicious.
Wait. Are there Olympics again already? Why on earth do they come so often these days? The four year span was much, much more exciting, due to all the anticipation. Every two years is sort of, well, eh.
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