I was gonna tell you all about how Mr Barma and I kicked ass playing bar trivia last night, but he beat me to it by blogging first while I was busy ministering to the sick children. Okay, okay, we didn't actually win, but we came close. If only we had been able to recruit someone in their late twenties to our team, i.e. someone who had watched many many episodes of the Smurfs in their formative years, we coulda taken it all, baby.
So I'll just say that it was wicked fun and that, since one of our answers was Jackson, Mississippi, I've had that Johnny and June Carter Cash song "Jackson" stuck in my head all morning. Which is fine since, y'know, it's a good song and all.
In other news, in case you hadn't guessed by the fact that I've been posting about actual social occasions that I didn't have to be dragged to, I've been feeling much better. God bless the evil pharmaceutical industry. Better living through chemicals. I was gonna also brag about how good I look in my pants now, but since I've already bragged about how smaht I am in this post, I've reached my limit on self-promotion for the day.
Fuck it. I look good in my pants.
That is all.
xoxo
6 comments:
What? No mention of the gratuitous hitting upon the resplendent Ms. Andrea by the 20-something hockey stud? Yes, I'd say it was at least the pants.
Heh.
Ok, so we had these two minor league hockey players next to us at the bar, one Canadian and one American, chatting and vicariously playing trivia with us. And the American one, who was approximately the same as my son, took the opportunity, when Mr Barma went to hand in one of our answers, to try to ascertain exactly what our relationship to each other was. "So...is that your husband?"
It was completely hilarious and extremely flattering at the same time. We'll just *keep pretending* that it's because I look good in my pants and not because the poor boy obviously has mommy issues.
Those of us who don't follow Mr Barma's blog are enlightened and grateful that you shared all this with us.
Now...when do we get a picture of you in the pants?
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