Ohhh, the Regatta...
Hey, 35-year-old man, we don't want to dance with you: Jesus Christ, why can't you boneheads figure it out? Just because a group of girls are dancing with each other, it doesn't mean that we're biding our time until our Prince Charming will come in and swoop us away with his very cool line of, "So, what, are you guys in love? Are you gay or something?" And then the Supa-Dyke in me has to come out (haha get it? COME OUT) and politely tell him to get the eff away from us. GODDDDDDDD.
Just because I'm drunk, it doesn't mean I'm an idiot: Okay, okay, sometimes it does mean I'm an idiot. But come on, lady, no matter how much I love polo shirts, I'm not going to buy an XXL men's polo shirt for $50. I'm not going camping any time soon- I don't need a tent. I was buying it with the intention of wearing it. Thanks, but no thanks.
FINALLY- Pictures of us: I am a camera whore. Everyone knows that. I'm that annoying drunk at the party that wants to capture every moment. However, the sad truth is that while Meg, Liz, and I have been friends for 15 years, we have a handful of pictures of each other. Pictures from pool parties and birthday parties at the bowling alley when we were 7 and 1 picture from my grad party from 2 years ago are the only evidence that we're actually friends. The main reason why we never take pictures is the fact that we're usually in our pajamas, stuffing our faces, and watching bad TV- not prime photo opportunities. But man oh man, did Regatta change that.
Labels: Drunken Debachery