Garden Party

The weekend has been and gone, and once again, I had a great time–though with far less drinking and escapism than usual. If self-denial is the very definition of adulthood, I feel like an adult. After all, I got home last night at the early, early hour of 2:30am! And today, why, I was so responsible…I was up at the crack of noon to start my day! Really, life is hard.

So. The weekend. Friday night was really low-key because as I mentioned, I was pretty sure that my liver was ready to quit me. So I spent the first three-quarters of my night watching “Arrested Development” when I had a vision of my future…

It was the episode where Lucille and Lindsey can’t get a table at a fancy restaurant so they go to some terrible Red Lobster-style fish place. They’re told they can sit anywhere they like. Lucille glares and says “This does not bode well.”

Will looked over to me and said “Aww, that’s such an Alle thing to say.”
“Wait, are you saying that I remind you of Lucille Bluth?”
“Um, no…maybe in like forty years.”

I took offense to that. But then I thought about it and you know what, he’s not wrong. I’ve always aspired to be a drunk old lady in a Chanel suit. I’d just like to go lighter on the racism and the passive-aggression. I’ll settle for being just regular aggressive, thanks very much.

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Awesome. Though I’d still prefer to be Joan Collins circa Dynasty, which I’m pretty sure is Joan Collins circa her entire life. Oh well, there’s still time.

I went to Lindsay’s house at about half past three to hang out with Lindsay and Alicia. We gossiped and brushed each other’s wigs until 6am when I dragged myself home to get ready for some manual labour.

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Lindsay and my spring project has been gardening. Her front yard has been neglected for about nine hundred years and, because we’re awesome, we decided to take it upon ourselves to cull the twisted mass of shrubbery and weeds that passes for a garden. It’s already taken up a couple of our nicer weekends and given us some rashes (seriously, who plants poisonous bushes?) but we’re not gonna let it beat us.

The shovels, though, very nearly did me in. I was trying to dig up a stump but wasn’t able to muster up the leverage to get it out.
“Oh my god, I’m gonna break this shovel,” I tell Lindsay.
She surveyed the scene. “Okay,” she said. “You sit on the handle and I’ll push.”
SNAP.

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Well done, both of us. As Lindsay says, “Maybe not our finest moment.” And obviously this wasn’t the only time I’d end up falling hard on my ass in the dirt.

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It also wasn’t the only shovel that would get broken, although Marita takes the blame for this one.

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This is not an illusion. Though I’m pretty sure the dude at the hardware store wishes it was. We made several dodgy trips to buy weedkiller, gloves and shovels; I think he thinks we’re serial killers.

After half an hour of concentrated effort, I did it: I dug up the poisonous shrub! It wasn’t even that we didn’t like where it was growing or whatever; I was out for revenge. You would not even believe the rashes that this thing gave us last time. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of doing anything, ever. I’m also pretty sure this stump weighed as much as I do. I’m pretty strong. No big deal.

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You can also see George and John in the background. They came over to lend some much needed testosterone to the proceedings…by explaining the plots of music videos and distracting me with talk about LOST. Later George introduced me to beer with hot sauce, which was the greatest moment of my life. All is forgiven, boys.

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The garden is now done. We’ve re-seeded the lawn and planted flowers everywhere. But, um, it’s currently not very attractive. As Lindsay says, “Looks a lot better in the dark.” To which I replied “Ah yes, the title of my autobiography.”

After a hard day in the salt mines, all I wanted to do was go to sleep. But oh no, it was GAME NIGHT.

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(For some reason, it didn’t occur to me to GO BACK TO MY OWN HOUSE and go to sleep. Um. I blame the beer and tobasco.)

Apples to Apples is maybe my favourite game ever and if you’ve never played, you really need to get on that shit. I didn’t win the game but I did win a few hands with a well-played “Ted Kennedy.” Play on, player.

Afterwards we played some weird game called Qwelf. It’s your basic boardgame with bizarre rules and dares and trivia questions. For example, Chuck (who writes and draws the very excellent Grab Bag Comics) was commanded to make a mascot out of an inanimate object and keep it nearby all game. He chose a marshmallow and named it…

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Obviously James (on the left) spent the rest of the game trying to eat it. Um, you don’t want to eat permanent marker, homie. That’s how you get swine flu, I’m pretty sure of it.

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Josh’s dares were to make a halloween mask (here made of a Pepsi bottle and Lindsay’s makeup) and to hide under the table for an unspecified period of time. Yeah. YOU try looking down at your ankles and seeing this looking back at you. You’ll never sleep again.

Later, Josh announced that he was “the sommolier of cock.” Yeah, alright.

Speaking of horrifying…

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That wasn’t a dare or anything. It was just to be creepy. You’ve seen it; you can’t UNsee it.

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Inspired by “Do You Realise???” on the radio, James and I slow danced junior-high style (arms length, no eye contact). Eventually he yelled “HIGH SCHOOL STYLE!” and got all up on me. Somehow he managed to upsidedown me on the couch and I couldn’t get up.

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I updated my Facebook status to “wow, just got dropped on my head by a gay dude and now i think i’m pregnant.” But I didn’t get the worst of it; no. That would be Chuck…

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…who was carried away kicking and screaming by Josh, James and Marita. We’re not sure what they did to him. Check out his comic in about three months to find out.

Thus ended my game night; unfortunately, the real games in my life were about to begin. After a panicked, sleepless night and an extremely pissed off morning, I escaped to Starbucks on Sunday morning for coffee and to blow off steam. I met Haley and we went for a wander up and down the boulevard. My bad mood dissipated a little when I realised how amazing the day was. For all its faults (landlocked, horrible winters) Chicago is really amazing sometimes.

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I wore adorable purple (!) ruffled (!!) satin (!!!) flats (!!!!) that I bought in Australia. They’re supercute with the right jeans.

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They’re Steve Madden. Before you freak out, I know and I agree: ew. But they really are cute and so far they haven’t given me any blisters. That’s such an anomaly for flats–it’s why I usually wear heels. Anyway, I’ll take it.

Sunday night, Jaime Black, aka: Batman and I finally got our shit together and hung out for the first time ever. This doesn’t sound like a huge deal except that we’ve been internet friends for about five years and have loads of friends in common. It was a really fun night, even though we didn’t get up to anything terribly rebellious (aside from foiling a robbery and planning all tomorrow’s parties). We had lots of nerdy conversation which I couldn’t possibly reproduce textually; enjoy the following visual representation instead:

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You’re really jealous that you weren’t there. Admit it.

Speaking of jealous, check out my flowers!

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They have their secondary leaves now, holy shit. They grow up so fast. Sniff sniff.

This week is going to (hopefully) be less busy than last week. All the household stuff is done, I don’t have computer things to do and my social life is calming down. I have a buttload of doctors to see, which is less than awesome, but I guess it’s important to see that my head’s okay. Maybe I’ll get the all-clear to return to real life? Fingers crossed.

Loves you!

5 thoughts on “Garden Party

  1. You should just use a stump grinder next time. Seriously, the guy comes in, 5 minutes later the stump is gone. Dad and I took 4 hours to dig it out and pull the damn thing out of the ground, and Mum hadn’t told us that she’d already hired a guy to do the other two. We were not happy…

  2. You’re blogging your balls off! I’m a wad of shame.

    That scene with Lucille winking is one of the funniest goddamn things ever…along with maybe a million other AD moments…but you get the picture.

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