French Food and Used Shoes: Profiles in Awesome

Everyone can relax. This blog post is new and I hope that it will be entertaining. I was told I "had to blog about tonight." And after the little stunt someone with the same initials as urine pulled on the Fifteenth of May in the Year of Our Lord 2008, it would appear as though I am losing control. Well, I'm taking back the helm of this little Intertubespace ship I like to call Hope. Dad's home; the party's over.*

On the evening of the Seventeenth of May in the Year of Our Lord 2008, a little get-together (many good things are abbreved GT) took place. The occassion: the 18th anniversary of my breathtaking and so far well-reviewed emergence from the womb of Mom A. The place: The town I am always in despite not living there. The people: awesome. Attendees were as follows: Id A, Produce Pete, The Schmelter, Fraulein Schmelter (BPE, needs a better name), Anne Frank (ditto), Zideburnz, Pinky Tuscadero and Commander Cool who is last on the list because he showed up last. (That's what you get for having "a family." What are those anyway?) We were all dressed to the nines. One of us even looked like a cowboy! (Urine)

READY!?! OKAY!!!

First there was cheese and crackers. And mozzarella sticks which really took away from the authentic French feel (tricolors, fancy plastic champagne glasses and sparkling raspberry-apple cider [credit: Produce Pete and Schmelter.]) Perhaps if they were brie sticks? I don't know; moving on! The was relatively untouched as just two hours before this meal I had finished half a bag of Doritos (Cool Ranch only) while "Keeping up with the Kardashians" for four hours. I lead a very sad, sad life when I am by myself. MAIN COURSE!

"Beware the toothpicks, guys." CHICKEN CORDON BLEU! QUE CORELLE! FRANCE! Despite Doritos, I will it anything if wrapped in meat that comes from a pig. Pigs are most delish farm animals, IMO. Really, this was the first home-cooked meal I've had since Thanksgiving (saaddd) and it was actually really good. BRAVO LADYGIRLS! Cards were given, I was flattered. YOu people spoil me. Like really, above and beyond.

Then there was dessert. Oh, dessert. Cupcakes: good. The menstral blood that came with them: not so good. SRY! The crepes: good. The effort it takes to make crepes: cancels out the outcome of crepe making. Then I drank a plastic champagne glass filled to the brim with chocolate syrup because it's my birthday (it was actually last week but no one's counting) and why would I count calories at my own birthday party? There can't be than many in chocolate syrup? Right? RIGHT!?! [Vom] I'm not bulimic. LIKE AT ALL. Then we cleaned, slowly and with much ado. BOWLING!

Then we went bowling because I said it and everyone had to listen to me. That is except if you had a dress on, then YOU could do whatever YOU wanted on MY birthday. Bitches. While waiting to bowl at the happiest place on Earth, we formed two cliques: Team Single and Club BFGF. As I had a crown on, I appointed, nee anointed (I'm a king, I have those powers), myself Team Captain. Team Single (Commander Cool, Produce Pete, Anne Frank and myself) just talked about how good (bad) it was to not have the old ball-and-chain. [Tears] Being Team Captain of Team Single is really the best (worst) thing ever. [Tears] Then I got mad that a stupid arcade game that no one in history has ever won existed and it really is the stupidest thing ever theres no way in hell anyone can gain that much electricity in their "node" to win that monkey FUCKYOUARCADEGAMEIHATEYOUFOREVER. Then we bowled. I performed only slightly better than Barack Obama but much worse than Produce Pete who has apparently been hiding a secret bowling talent his whole life (NOTE: maybe this is not true, check posts in February 2008 if you are that curious and you totally are.) I always enjoy bowling because it combines four of my top 46 favorite things: competition, dancing, recreating/pretending to be on America's Next Top Model, and fun shoes.

Then we returned to Mrs. Schmelter's "PARTY ZONE '0hGR8" (I just anointed it that) for chit chat. And, God, do I love to chit chat. All in all, I have some pretty awesome friends who are the only reason these days why I leave my house. God love 'em. Thanks all! Exoh, exoh.

P.S. Leaving for college is going to be so sad. Yeah, I said it.

*The truth is I'd probably be more interested in this blog if it had horizontal stripes. Alas, it does not. So we beat on, heads against the current.