My entire family is sick. Vomiting, diarrhea, the nasties... You know what I'm talking about. I am, besides hungover, completely healthy.
Last night was "Taco Thursday" at a country bar in a country town. I met up with some old friends, one especially that is on leave from his station in Alaska. He is an Air Force fag. yay!
Anyhow, after many a pitcher of Miller High Life we played shuffle board, danced to silly music, put taco sauce on the rim of Craig's mug, did a lot of reminiscing and had a good time. Meanwhile on the other end of the world, my guy is getting drunk in an Irish Pub. It happens. I would like to believe that we were partying 'together'...
I am hungry and Jac is making me chicken enchiladas tonight. I can't wait.
Craig called and said that tonight will be "Fajita Friday" but I don't think I'm up for that quite yet. Maybe "Margarita Monday" would be okay.
It was a dark and stormy night, the door shut, the maid screamed, and a pirate ship appeared on the horizon. I believe that's what Snoopy said anyhow.
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In all fairness, I wasn't drunk until we left the Irish pub, and headed off to the Morracan Hookah bar where I did drink/inhale too many Flaming Sambucca's and some sort of neon-green pina colada or something.
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