We are getting our place ready for the freaky tiki weekend. We'll be doing some shopping this weekend for coconut bras and grass skirts and scary tiki face cups. I am so looking forward to behaving like an idiot for a few hours. After all, staying home and being safe and acting stupid and doing limbo... who could ask for anything more.
We'll have the kids at the house, so it won't be a total drunkfest barf-o-rama or anything. Don't want to set a bad example. Doug has an alcohol free punch called "Bora Bora Punch" for the kiddies, so they'll get to tiki cup slurp and have fun with us. Only we'll be drinking from the adult punch.
We've got it all planned out for a night of silly fun. I love staying home 
She fell asleep at 11:45. We couldn't wake her up no matter how hard we tried. Oh well. But the funny part was to come.
We had not been drinking very heavily, seeing as we don't usually, ever, [well... when Aaron is around we do]. But when it is just us we have a couple drinks and it's all mellow. No drinking to get pukey shitfaced or anything. But at 11pm Doug said "Ya know, we oughta pound a couple down so we can be good and goofy once midnight hits, why the hell not!"
I laughed at him and he made me a lynchburg lemonade with some lime coloring in it... the lime coloring sank to the bottom so it looked like something right out of a sci fi movie... some wicked scary alien drink! It was funny, and we each had two. I didn't realize how much vodka he put in there, because the lemonade was super sweet, the lime stuff was wacky sour, and the vodka was almost invisible. We were trashed after two of them.
So we're watching the big light ball creep slowly down its post from its apex in Time Square, laughing our asses off, having a great time, and there is this billboard in Times Square that they keep panning past. It has a phone number on it.
And they keep panning around, and there's this billboard... and the phone number. And we can't resist.
Doug picks up the phone and dials the number. It's an advertising agency in Manhattan that specializes in ... billboards.
So he of course gets the voicemail for the company, it being midnight almost and all. So he leaves this message. He's all drunk, and he says something like: "Wooooooooo hhoooooooooo!!!!!!!! Hey, hey there advertising guys. Happy New Year !!! Woooooo! I'm watching TV and getting my ASS kicked by some SKYY Vodka, and your number is on this billboard, and I'm all about wishing everyone a happy new year, and they keep showing me your number, so I figgered, what the hell, right! Hey! Hey man, have a happy new year. There's no need to call me back or anything. I'm in Massachusetts and I wish you the best year ever! Woooooooo!"
And I'm laughing my ass off to the point of peeing my pants almost.
We are so juvenile.
Anyway, I'm sure as hell that we aren't the only people who called this poor company. I'm sure that other drunken assholes did the same thing. I just hope ours put a smile on their faces. It was friggin funny. It was at the time, and I'm smiling just thinking about how funny it still is to me.
I got email from a reader who had this to say about my Troll Family pictures in yesterday's edition:
"Not to be gross or anything, but, being a mom of a 4 yr. old with an itchy but [sic], I couldn't help but notice the kid on the left in the underwear picture. Someone needs to bleach those things!!!!"
I hadn't noticed, but yeah. Those skivvies could use a visit from Mr. Clorox. Thanks for making me feel grossed out, not just for putting a picture up of some mystery kid in his underoos but that they aren't exactly pristine. I might just have to put one of those "censored" bars across their fannies. But then, people might think they're nekkid under the bar, and then I'll look really bad!
Oh what to do.
Well. I've got to work. I'll be in Monday and I'm sure I'll have a nice little something to write about the weekend, new pictures (with that digicam!) and new year's well wishes for all of you, my ten readers!
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