I am not a super-spy.
I am, however, after a visit to Amber's fantastic bar "Old Town Pub" in - you guessed it - Old Town, and the liberal application of post-driving booze chez moi - drunk.
Which means that if I can coordinate my fingers and such to type I will probably say something interesting, or - most likely, not.
And since I currently have a drink in hand (actually it's still in the bottle - so I am inhabiting a persona here - or rather I am inhabiting the futurity of myself - soon to be more drunk) I raise this metaphorical glass in a toast to:
1) my brilliant class of undergrads - who, although initially reluctant to speak, are some of the smartest little buggers in the history of undergrads and continually make discussion a joy and a treat.
2) to Noelle - who has had a crappy holiday and really deserves some kind of toast in her honor (even if the super-spy event has collapsed).
3) to foot baths - because you keep my feet warm and frisky and relaxed.
4) to appletinis - because (although I agree with Jett that you are not real drinks) you are, however, delicious and oh so alcoholic.
5) to anyone, anywhere who thinks that a good smack on the ass is a little bit fun
6) to the abject object in the back of my refrigerator that constantly avoids my "gaze" in an attempt to avoid the instantiation of rejection and thus refuse or "garbage".
7) to my sister, of whom I have seen neither hide nor hair for many days - in hopes that her muffin baking exploits are going well.
8) to my boy's "Knights of the Old Republic" Jedi character who has apparently blown up a man-eating shark -- you go girl --
9) to drink to drink to drink to drink to drink!
10) to talking to friends who are progressively becoming more drunk on the phone.
11) And also, with a parting bow, to cashmere - soft, sweet, brushed from the bellies of goats, and the most delightful and cosy garment on the planet. (I am currently on an expedition? exploit? excursion? to get my sister to raise cashmere goats on her farm - thus creating a never-ending cycle of cashmere goodness. Is this over the top? totally - Am I over the top? yes Am I sane? not tonight).
Cheers!
Which means that if I can coordinate my fingers and such to type I will probably say something interesting, or - most likely, not.
And since I currently have a drink in hand (actually it's still in the bottle - so I am inhabiting a persona here - or rather I am inhabiting the futurity of myself - soon to be more drunk) I raise this metaphorical glass in a toast to:
1) my brilliant class of undergrads - who, although initially reluctant to speak, are some of the smartest little buggers in the history of undergrads and continually make discussion a joy and a treat.
2) to Noelle - who has had a crappy holiday and really deserves some kind of toast in her honor (even if the super-spy event has collapsed).
3) to foot baths - because you keep my feet warm and frisky and relaxed.
4) to appletinis - because (although I agree with Jett that you are not real drinks) you are, however, delicious and oh so alcoholic.
5) to anyone, anywhere who thinks that a good smack on the ass is a little bit fun
6) to the abject object in the back of my refrigerator that constantly avoids my "gaze" in an attempt to avoid the instantiation of rejection and thus refuse or "garbage".
7) to my sister, of whom I have seen neither hide nor hair for many days - in hopes that her muffin baking exploits are going well.
8) to my boy's "Knights of the Old Republic" Jedi character who has apparently blown up a man-eating shark -- you go girl --
9) to drink to drink to drink to drink to drink!
10) to talking to friends who are progressively becoming more drunk on the phone.
11) And also, with a parting bow, to cashmere - soft, sweet, brushed from the bellies of goats, and the most delightful and cosy garment on the planet. (I am currently on an expedition? exploit? excursion? to get my sister to raise cashmere goats on her farm - thus creating a never-ending cycle of cashmere goodness. Is this over the top? totally - Am I over the top? yes Am I sane? not tonight).
Cheers!
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