Sweet surrender what a night
So, by now you might have read the lovely Sarah B.'s version of what happened Saturday night. That, my dears,was the tip of the iceberg. I am here to flesh out the story.
We started drinking about 2 in the afternoon. I knew that this would be the day of legend when Jon, Sarah, Mat, and myself piled into Jon's drop top and rocked the Geto Boyz.
The wedding was lovely, even though I was unable to catch Brian's eye and make him laugh. Also, playing Beneath the Sheets with a Unitarian hymnal isn't as much fun as playing with a Baptist hymnal.
Now, witnessing a hookup at a wedding was kinda like seeing an oompah band or an ancient black man who plays mean blues guitar even though he's missing three fingers. You only see these things in movies. After the reception petered out we went in search of more liquor. Naturally we ended up in the bride's dressing room tossing back the champers and trying on the veil. I tried on the Maid of Honor's bra. She was really ok with it.
As we made our way outside Sarah stole a sign shaped like an arrow that read Sponge Room. She wore this stuck to her chest, pointing at her cleavage for much of the night. At one point I think she was talking to the bride's mother, but I can't be sure.
Outside we posed for more pictures. Many of which smacked of 90210 cast shots. We were so carefree and kicky, even when my dress broke and I had to hold it up to keep my action from jumping out. There was talk of going to Celebration Station, which I'm SO glad did not pan out. Instead we ended up back at Chez Byrne to regroup, change clothes, and drink more.
An hour and a half later, there is still no sign of Jon or the bridesmaid. For a more detailed account of what may or may not have happened during this missing scene, check this out.
So we went to a pool party instead. And it fucking ruled.
First of all I can still fit into my swim suit from junior year and second of all, I need a fucking pool, preferably one with a slide and a cooler full of booze.
Everything came together at the pool. Sarah, Kelly & Aaron, Mat, Clayton, My Dude, Greg & Kristen. We had joined together like Voltron to make a super party. I know the Shit was about to Jump Off when Joe Witt busted out fully shirtless and ready to rock.
Mat kept flexin' nuts about being a lifeguard, which really only came in handy when Kelly's head kept going under. To his credit, he did play mermaid hair and teaparty with us.
My Dude was so much fun to piggyback ride with and he did manage to keep the Doritos out of the pool. And Sarah and I did a stellar version of "Oh What a Night".
We learned that Mat and I and Greg and Kristen are equally matched at chicken.
The party went on well into the night, but once I got onto the floaty I was done in. I knew I wasn't gonna be the one to barf in the pool, not that anyone did, but it sure as hell wasn't gonna be me. So I sat on the sidelines until it was time to head home. Sarah was in the hammock, Mat was wrangling Jon, who had showed up later after hittin' it with the bridesmaid and drinking an entire bottle of champers, Aaron lit a joint, then Kelly yelled at him that they were at a strangers house and he needed to put that shit out. All the while "Nights in White Satin" played on and on.
I want you guys to know that it was not all fun and games. At one point I put my foot into Sarah's wine cup. I do think there was at least one back buster. Mat was sitting on the ledge and I thought it would be a good idea to try and stand up on his legs, thus resulting in a monster strawberry on the back of his leg and the partial loss of my big toenail.
On the whole it was one of the three best nights of my life. The next day Jon proclaimed that if last night was a game, we fucking won.


Policing thyself

When you have to ask "Should I go home or should I have another beer?" You should already know the answer. Aparently I don't.


Wedding day blues
This weekend our very good friends Nate and Jen are getting married. Tonight officially kicks off the wedding drunk fest that has become an unofficial tradition in our circle. I'm sure you all are shocked. Erin, a total and complete alcoholic? And her friends too? Well, I never...Sorry kiddies, it's totally true. When Mr. Byrne and I married we were fully, stumbly drunk for at least a week. At one point I was so hung over that I could barely crawl out of bed long enough to watch Color Me Badd on 90210. Fortunately I have a super strong drunk network and they managed to pull be back from the edge. I also managed to look fantastic at my wedding and not embarass myself in the slightest. Let's hope the same goes this weekend.


Why the dirty librarian thing?
Working at the library, as I do, I see many people all day long. A constant nagging, needy stream of people and their crying, smelly kids. Some of these people I like. Some of these people irritate the shit out of me. Some of these people like me. Inexplicably so, because there are times I am hardly civil.
One of my new fans is a man in his late sixties who wears socks with his Tevas and speaks at a volume no lower than a bellow at all times. He calls me Red, and one time, when I refused to argue politics with him, he called me a Traveler. And he tells the same jokes every time he comes in. Which is every damn day. He comes in and xeroxes the crossword puzzle out of the paper and tells me that "If I took the paper then I couldn't come give you a hard time, eh Red?" At this point I'm this close to getting the paper for him.
Well, he came in today, got his two dimes and a nickle, 'cause he never brings his own dimes for the copier, did the whole bit about getting the paper. Business as usual. He checked out five or six magazines one of which was Esquire. There was a headline about "Are You Normal?" Silly old me decided to make a joke of it which apparently lodged a burr firmly under his saddle. Not more than thirty minutes later I get a phone call and it's him. Calling me. At work.
He bellows into my ear "You don't think I'm normal Red? I'm not normal? I've got the testosterone of a man half my age! I eat my yogurt. I work out. Are you ragging on me?"
I am gobsmacked. What the hell am I supposed to say to this man? He just asked if I was ragging on him. Where did he learn that term? I hemmed and hawed and said I was kidding, but he kept going.
"You think you can rag on me just 'cause you're a librarian? I've never met any librarians named Marian, anyway."
I can't for the life of me remember what I said to finally get him off the phone, but I am really not looking forward to the next time he comes in. Which will be tomorrow. And he'll bellow more crap at me and I'll be forced to think of his testosterone levels. Maybe I can have him banned from the library.
Ten reason why I love My Dude
1. When he went to buy cramp medicine for me he called to ask what kind I needed and he conducted the entire conversation in Strong Bad's voice.
2. He can play Every Rose Has it's Thorn on the guitar and does so whenever asked. But doesn't when not asked.
3. He's the best snuggly couch partner in the whole wild west.
4. He can't stop watching Ocean's 11.
5. He draws the most wonderful pictures of little kids chasing their Frisbee into the street then getting hit by a car.
6. Sometimes he holds me down and forces kisses upon me, even though I squirm. I really love that.
7. He spits on the door handles of SUV's in the parking lot, and encourages me to do the same.
8. He wore a Van Halen t-shirt in his senior picture.
9. He still has that Van Halen t-shirt.
10. He is nothing what I expected and everything I ever wanted.


It's time for your astrological forecast
Aries: Girl, you need to calm down 'cause you're pissing people off.
Taurus: Christ, you can be a royal pain in the ass. You might want to work on that.
Gemini: All ya'll's are bi.
Cancer: Don't give me that shit about "Oh, nothing's wrong". You're a liar and eventually I'm gonna stop asking. Ok, I've stopped. No, I don't wanna get back together. Quit calling.
Leo: Stop looking in the mirror and start working on the stuff inside. And no, you probably don't need more glitter.
Virgo: Is it my fault that you're all sensitive and I stomp on your feelings?
Libra: Why don't you just sit in the kiddie pool and drink beer, 'cause I know that's what you're planning on doing anyway.
Scorpio: Why you gotta be all stingy? Yes I took your cigarettes, but you were passed out. And no, I don't remember his name.
Sagittarius: Would you shut the fuck up! And quit shoving me around, you brought up a blood blister.
Capricorn: You're too serious. Always trying to get ahead. That's why no one returns your calls.
Aquarius: Every Aquarius I've ever met has been a psycho liar.
Pisces: I once dated a Pisces and the sex was bangin' but he was really into Metallica and guns. Then he got a tribal tattoo.


Fire Belle
Who's the most popular girl in the Owasso Fire Department? That would be me. Who got to climb all the way to the top of the fire truck? Me again. Who was told by a precious 4 year-old that she had "the reddest orange hair in the world"? Yep, me again. Who doesn't hate her job anymore? Me. Who thinks the firemen looked up my dress when I climbed up the truck? I think you know.
I found mold on my breakfast toast and I just ate around it.


If I were a Twinkie, what would you fill me with?
Actually, that is not at all what I said. I simply asked my closest friends what animal they would be. Since some of the people on this list haven't actually been contacted, I took the liberty of making up an answer. These are actual answers.
"I'd be a unicorn. But, like, a really tough one with a mowhawk" Sarah B.
"I always thought koalas had it goin' on." Mat D.
"I'd be a bear. How can you beat all the salmon you can eat, then sleeping for three months. Plus bears are kinda crazy." Brian B.
"I think I really have no choice but to be an anime monkey."
Kelly F. (She's right, she really had no choice)

These are answers I made up:
James is a very suspicious cat sitting on someone's porch. A cat who smokes and drinks Pabst.
Amanda is a Golden Tamarin monkey. Pretty to look at and you really want to curry their favor, but if you cross them they can be really fucking mean. Amanda does not fling her poo.
Doug is a seahorse, because seahorses are really cute and so is Doug.

Yeah, I should stop 'cause these just aren't working.

Dancing with the naked hippies
So my sister lives in England. I got a note from her yesterday saying that she and her Aussie friend are headed toward Salsbury plain to dance nude at Stonehenge. Seriously, I couldn't be more jealous. Whenever we were little kids I remember asking my dad what church we went to. All the other kids at school went to church, but on Sunday mornings we all watched Nova. Dad told us to tell them we were Druids. So we did.
I miss my sister terribly. She came to visit last month and when she was here I felt like all my batteries were at full power and when she left, I was deflated. When she and I are together everything is possible and when we're apart we just lay around and feel like shit. Sometime we have to wonder if we're freaky. Should sisters be so close that they must constantly worry about excluding everyone else in the whole world? We are and we do. Whenever I got married I really had to put a little distance between she and I. Fortunately my husband has a sister to whom he is very close and he understands where she and I are coming from. Sometimes, though, I can't help but wonder if my sis thinks I deserted her. It was always she and I against everyone else and I don't want her to be left behind, however I know that moving her into my house is not even an option.
I'm totally hungover and just had to teach a spur of the moment computer class, so please pardon my crazy ass rambling. I love my sister. Our cousin once pointed out that we have a bizarre sort of twin language where a person can understand the words, but they make no sense. Kind of like now. I just really want her to come home. England is to far away, plus you can see the type she's consorting with. Dirty Stonehenge hippies. And I bet there's not a bra among them.


I think you should get this one because it says 'rectum'. Kelly
Because it's my day off Kelly and I are going to The Teacher Store. For those of you who don't have a clue as to what I'm talking about, and perhaps there are a few, I'll fill you in. The Teacher Store (TTS) is where you can get the coolest stickers, and giant cans of glitter, and the cutest buffalo puppet in the whole world and I'm gonna get that puppet and name him Buffalony. With the help of Buffalony my storytimes will be taken to the next level. The beauty of going with Kelly is that she will force me to get high before hand and then we'll go and make fun of all the Jesus flannel boards. Then we'll spend an hour or so finding just the right stickers, then she'll probably talk me into some glitter glue or something like that.
Kelly is a true friend because she knows the importance of arts and crafts in a girl's daily life. Maybe today will be the day we buy Mod Poge and make our own Mexican Jesus candles. On my shitty anniversary Kelly brought me one of her own spectacular prints, all framed and shit, as well as a tiny ceramic bride and groom she had painted to look like me and My Dude. Dumb ass me thought she found it like that and Brian thought it was a li'l figure of a hobo couple. Either way it's pure fucking gold. The best part about it is there is a tiny, seemingly Asian, child standing next to the hobo Erin and Brian. We assume he's some sort of servant or maybe Brian and I are destined to adopt a Romanian baby. Either way I wish I could travel back in time to put hobo E&B on our wedding cake. I also wish I could travel back in time and wrestle tigers in the Colosseum.


Didn't I blow your mind this time
Actually I blew my own mind. After the smoke has cleared over Sarah Brown's Co-Ed Drunken Slumber Party, it has come to my realization that there are a few apologies that I need to make. I'll just jump right in.
1. Ollie, sorry for all those Nazi comments and sorry for sticking my tongue in your girlfriend's mouth. In my own defense, she was right there with me.
2. Sorry to all the boobs I felt and their owners. Actually I only want to apologize to four of the boobs, because the other four, and you know who you are, can thank me later.
3. Sorry to my husband for the above mentioned.
4. Sorry to Kelly for telling her that "everyone-absolutely everyone-will be there in their pajamas", when in fact it was only the two of us.
5. Sorry to Aaron and Tony for feeling up your girls.

I'm sure I'll think of more later, but I might choose to apologize in person. On an unrelated note, people are telling me that they are having trouble scrolling down thus they are missing some of my precious kernals of crap. Apparently all you have to do is maximize the window and all scrolling problems are solved. Let me know if this works. If not, then I really don't know what else to tell you.


Because Erin had such a depressing wedding anniversary, I'm standing in for her. It's hard to type because I'm just a cat, but she has told me time and time again that I'm her most trusted confidante, so I took the liberty of finding her passwords and PIN numbers and stuff and I'm going to be the auxiliary Erin today. First allow me to introduce mtself, I'm Gus a fat, fluffy, and recently homosexual cat. I love long walks on the beach, knocking stuff over, and Pan-Asian cuisine. Erin's anniversary sucked because it was her grandpa-in-laws funeral and her husband got totally sick in the meantime, thus equaling a shitty time. She and I spent it sitting on the couch and watching Buffy DVD's. Erin would be really pissed if she knew I was writing this, because I'm making her sound like a total lose-bag. Fortunately I don't care. In fact I'm here to tell all of her secrets, like how she loves The Carpenters, and how she eats sauerkraut from the jar, and how she's been known to drink an entire bottle (the big kind) of pinot grigio, and how she never really does anything at work, but she smiles a lot so she gets away with it. As you can see Erin is a pretty horrible person, but perhaps I'm just biased because she beat my ass this morning for chewing on the plants and puking on the rug.


Ok, so apparently we don't get bold, itatlics, or links today.

Anyway, what a fuckin' sucker am I. This morning (3:15 in the p.m.) I get a call from the Neilsons. They want me, ME, to be a Neilson household, controlling what America watches on t.v. How long had that been a dream of mine? Who can say. Mr. Lazarus told me that all I'd have to do is jot down the viewing habits of my household and return the postage paid booklet at the end of the week, but first I had to answer a few question.
Well, perhaps it was the bacchanalia that was Sarah Brown's Co-Ed Drunken Slumber Party that muddled my brain, but when Mr. Lazarus asked if anyone in my household worked for the television media, the first thing I said was "My husband works for National Public Radio!" Immediately I regreted it. I had the Neilson booklet in my fingertips and then...it was gone. The worst part about it was that I felt that Mr. Lazarus really hustled me off the phone rather brusquely, like he couldn't risk association with the liberal taint of Fresh Air.
I totally could've lied and I'd be controlling what America watched as early as next week, but thanks to me and my booze addled self, it's Life with Busey for one more season.


How do my bruises look?
Ok, we have all seen these twiglet girls scampering around in the tiny shorty-shorts with "CHEER!" written across the ass. I think I need some of those shorts and across the ass I want "KAITLEN!".


Ok kids, let's start off with a song
Let's just say that Sonja at Lennie's Club deals a mean house chardonnay. Let's just say that this post is a little befuddled. I'll try my best.

Let me count the ways karaoke kicked ass
1. Upon arriving, Sonja greeted my husband with "Where you been shithead".
2. Sonja. I think Sonja might have been a mail order bride at some point, but right now she proudly flaunts fake boobs and can wail Drive Me Crazy without even glancing at the screen.
3. When Sarah and I got up to sing You're So Vain, I said it was Sarah's birthday and she pointed out that it was her seventeenth birthday.
4. Steve had on a shirt that said Kurt Loder.
5. My dear Dude got up and wowed the crowd with his freakishly right on the money Johnny Cash singing voice and all the leathery, rode hard and hung up wet women swooned.
And so did I.
6. Buttery nipples. What's a seventeenth birthday without them? Gross buckets, that's what.
7. When Moniqa grabbed my shoulder then went up a wailed. I wish I could remember what, though.
8. Sarah, Steve, and myself getting up there to sing Leavin' on a Jetplane, only to be blindsighted by some song that I have never heard of. Ever. In fact, I don't think our version counts as having heard it, so it's still a mystery to me.
9. Getting drunk enough to forget the rapidly swelling goose egg on my knee. That storytime fall kicked my ass. I'm totally limping today.
10. The fact that it was Sarah's birthday and now I'm even more primed for her party this weekend.

I'm off to ice down my shoulder. Shit, I should get a little workers comp for that spill.


I'm totally crushing!

Things that have happened to me today:
1. A 9 year-old told me that we needed more AC/DC at the library. To which I replied 'Highway to Hell. Check'.
2. I totally fell down in the middle of storytime, busting my knee and flashing all who surveyed.
3. Someone whose last name is Nipps checked out a book called Facercise.
4. I ate more Taco Bell, still usnsure as to who has the better burritos, Bell or Bueno.
5. A lady requested The Conway Twitty Story.
6. I killed about 75 centipedes because they keep coming into the fucking library and it makes me want to barf every time I see one and now the floor is littered with their corpses.
7. I have given countless hi-fives.
8. I tried to come up with something to sing for Sarah B's birthday karaoke, but I'm not sure I'm there yet.
9.I cleared Kelly's library fines. Y'all just have to ask.
10. I spent my lunch time trying to figure out how to get out of working this afternoon. So far I've come up empty, but I have developed a pretty intense crush on Seth Green.


A cautionary tale
If you let Mat Dekinder park in your driveway, there is an excellent chance he'll say,
"I sure am parched. Is there any of that Michelob Light left in the fridge?"
Well, you decide to have a cold one too and neither one of you wants to drink alone. So one beer turns into a trip to The Doublet.
After a trip to The Doublet, Mr. Dekinder gets really hungry, so he says,
"Would it be cool if we stopped by Village Inn? I gotta soak some of this shit up."
Two Ultimate Skillets later Mat is disgustingly bloated and can't help but say,
"Christ, that shit tore me up. You mind if I load a bowl?"
As you may know, if you smoke pot on top of four bloody marys and untold Jager shots it'll fuck you up. So toward the end of the evening you might hear,
"I'm just gonna lay here for a minute."
Since he doesn't have to work until 4:00 the next day, Mat will probably spend the day sleeping on your sofa. Naturally he lost his keys the night before he gonna need a ride to work and when he gets off his car will still be parked in your driveway.
When he comes to pick it up he'll most likely say,
"Work sucked. Is there any of that Michelob Light left in the fridge?'


From the journal of Jessica Wakefield

You'll never guess who I ran into today. He's even cuter than he was three years ago. And this time it's me he wants. Devon Whitelaw is finally mine, all mine!
It's a get together game
Alright, some of you loyal friends have expressed interest in the time honored game of Worse. I'll give you the specs but whenever you play you have to come back to me here and tell me some of your answers, or better yet, the answers of your friends. Maybe I'll share some of mine. Maybe.

Anyway, Whorse is as follows:
1. Get real drunk. Honestly, I can not stress the importance of this first step. If you don't get drunk you will not be able to think of who you really want your Bend-over-Boyfriend to be. We're asking the inportant questions here, it's not good to go in unprepaired.
2. Make a list of all the disgusting sex acts you can think of. Sure we all know the basics; the three way, the b.j., the pearl neckalce. But have you really wondered whose prison bitch you'd be? Who would be your prison bitch? Would you cum on Scully's face or just Gillian Anderson. You'll surprise yourself by what you are willing to make Sarah Michelle Gellar do. (toss salad)
3. Fill in those blanks with anyone you want. The rule here is that person can not be a person you know. Even if you know Famke Janssen, she's not allowed on your list. She is, however, allowed on mine. You can use actual celebs or characters. For example, Wolverine. Totally on the list. Hugh Jackman. Not so much. People can be used in more than one category, but if anyone starts to dominate you've got to shake it up a little.

That's it. Now remeber where you got it. Actually I got it from Sarah B. but I like to think that whoever plays it make it their own.


I just saw a kid come into the library with a temporary tattoo. Pshaw, you say. Aren't all the little ones sporting one these days? Well, this kid's tat was snaking up his neck from under the collar of his Spongebob Squarepants t-shirt. Vacation Bible School must be rougher than it was in my day.
Mommy was in the bad place last night
Who knew that skipping the nerve medication for three days would put you, and by you I mean me, in the meanest place in the world. However when I started to think about it I realized that there were bright spots in my day. The little boy rocking the Batman p.j.'s, My old man boyfriend coming in, calling me Red, and challenging me to a crossword puzzle contest. I was unable to participate, but we will meet on the field of honor at dawn. Yesterday was not a total loss. There are far darker places. Here's a few:
1. The place between Tori Spelling's boobs. This is also known as the taint upstairs.
2. A Sarlacc pit. I just did a Google search on this and it corrected my spelling of Sarlacc.
3. The gaping bung on the cover of the Assgasms video. Can also be considered a Sarlacc pit.

Do not fret dear readers, much like Lando, I've clawed my way out of the pit.


Let me just give a shout-out to my friend Sarah B.
My Dude introduced us and the first time I met Sarah she was in the hospital and I brought her a People magazine with Jennifer Aniston on the cover. She was so pleased that she had to hit the magic drug button like six times. Sarah's little pal Kate was there and she thought I was a Spice Girl, which led to later confusion when Kate thought Sarah was a Spice Girl bridesmaid. Truth be told, Sarah knows all the dirty secrets, stuff I don't tell my sister, and she's totally ok with all of it. As far as I know. Here is a small sampling of the most fun times Sarah and I have ever had:
1. The time we took wine to the movie theater and watched Legally Blonde. I'm sure that old lady thought we were making out, but she still didn't rat on us. Afterward we tried, in vain, to find a high school party and rock it. Perhaps it's best that we failed because I don't think I could handle high school boy rejection.
2. The many games of Whorse we've played together. Ok, so there have been three, but each time is better than the last.
3. My batchelorette party. Yeh, it was my party, but we owned it just the same.
4. The time we took wine to the movie theater and watched XXX. My the end of that we were both ready to dirty dance on a bed post for Mr. Diesel. Then we sobered up and he didn't even come up during Whorse.
5. When Sarah got into a shouting match with Tara, or Kara, or Amber, whatever her name was, at Caz's.
6. Any time Sarah whips out the Sharpie's at the bar, shit's about to jump off. Once I awoke with "PUNK ROCK" scrawled across my tits and it didn't wash off for days.
7. When Sarah threw me a wedding shower and my second cousin Nelda showed up. My Aunt Jean then announced to the entire party that, as a child, Nelda had been burned over 90% of her body.
8. Any time we go to Woodland Hills mall. Especially if it's on a Friday night.
9. Discussing the finer points of the Mary-Kate and Ashley catalog.
10. When she tells me that I'm not a bad person for finding Kevin Bacon occasionally hot.


The Barbie Queen of the Prom game is super fun, especially with these new added features:
1. A Jeff Stryker cock-and-balls.
2. Artifical limbs
3. A trip to the Freaknik
4. A bend-over-boyfriend
5. A European style abortion

It's also fun to drink everytime Barbie trounces upon women's rights, which is painfully often.


15 Starlogs and a big hairy pussy

You know, there is just nothing better than finding your issue of Tight, featuring 10 Asian cuties, nestled in the stack of books you're returning to the library.


I think my home appliances really do make me happier.

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