Hello again, everyone! I've officially returned from my Thanksgiving getaway, and holy crappers, it was so much fun.
Ladies and gentlemen, I absolutely cannot get over this picture of myself. Generally speaking I'm the most non-photogenic human being on the face of the planet. I can do my hair, spruce my makeup, lose twenty pounds, and look like an all around sex-kitten in the mirror--but then some dope will snap a candid, show it to me on that little camera screen, and I have to fight the urge to faint.
I'm like,"Dude! Why'd you take a picture of a chunky girl with bird poo smeared all over her cheek?!"
And the photographer's all, "Ummmm.....that's you."
But this shot, my friends, is the exception to the rule. I should consider posing next to the ass end of a dead bird more often--it seems to make me look cute by default:
Here I am at my ten year reunion, which I should add, was the most fun I've had in--let's see--ten years?!?! I love these people.
LOVE THESE PEOPLE.
Despite the beer bottle in the foreground and the facial expression that clearly says I AM A DOG AND WILL PLAYFULLY RIP A HOLE IN THE BACK OF YOUR PANTS, I was stone cold sober:
I didn't get any one's permission to post their picture on my website, but hello?! when have I ever given two poops about boundaries and respect?
Starting from the left, we have the lovely Tali (Ivy-leaguer, two master's degrees, sexy, successful, and fun--as hard as I try, I just can't hate her...), me, Melissa (who told me the truth about Santa in first grade--can't hate her either...), Cindy, Mary-Kate (New York artist with the hottest set of hooters I've ever had the privilege of accidentally touching), and the ravishingly beautiful Nancy.
This is Jon. Jon with approximately twenty-two bottles of beer pumping through his veins. I've never seen him in this kind of a condition, and I'm honestly debating whether or not I should call his mother--she would be so disappointed.
Sometime around midnight, Jon offered to take me to a Red Sox game, free of charge, and buy me dinner in Boston--he even sealed the deal with a pinky swear. I love it when my most successful friends extend expensive, drunken promises--really ups my own standard of living, ya know?
When I told Jared, he was like, "You're going on a date with Jon? I'm not sure how I feel about that..." So I said, "Jon's wife will be probably free that night, maybe you can take her on a date?" It worked--now Jared's totally fine with it.
This is Troy. Back in sixth grade, when I was a complete ho, I kissed him on the bus on the way home from our field trip to the Bronx Zoo. I can't remember why I decided to do it--it was either a dare, or the fact that I couldn't resist his chiseled little 90-pound body--I really can't remember. Either way, the band teacher found out and threatened to call our parents.
As far as I know, Dr. Hopko hasn't contacted them yet--but every now and again, the thought of that call keeps me awake at night. My father would kill me. Still.
I hope everyone had a Thanksgiving that was half as good as mine!