I love the 80s?

I've decided that the best medicine for unfinished projects might be showing them to your peers who will then harass you for not finishing them. I also call this a diversion tactic, of course I couldn't finish my scrapbooking, I was updating my blog. Updating one's myspace also counts as a good excuse but is generally not considered as strong an alibi since myspace requires little to no creativity. Simply press "upload" and you are now displaying last nights drunken pictures. Speaking of intoxication, unfinished business and flowers (see picture at left for the flower reference), I have a story.

Last night we went to a friend of a friend's townhouse for an 80s party. Now I have 2 problems with 80s parties. One, I lived through them and they really didn't leave much of an impression on me. I mean, what is "avoid the noid" all about anyway? I had, like, four people explain it to me and I still don't get it. Second, everyone always wears the same thing. It's like people think that all we wore in the eighties is Madonna shirts and tight black jeans.

The party we went remarkably well. I gotta hand it to this girl. She threw one heck of a party! From the authentic candies to the funny sayings posted on the walls to the impromptu costume contest, it was a great party! The boy and I decided to even drink authentically, enjoying Keystone and Miller 32s. Note the picture at left, the boy is dressed as the older brother from the Goonies (his idea, entirely!) and he won he contest! That's ma' boy!

The catch in getting into the party is a little adventure I like to call "hopping a fence." Now some of you are familiar with my last fence scaling story... (See my mom, reference the Panfil orange bush incident of 2000) But this one is pretty good. So, we literally have to hop a fence to get in and out of this young lady's casa. On the way out, I miss. What I miss, I'm not sure, but I definitely missed somethin' because my swollen bruised ankle tells me so. Oh well, I guess it serves me right. Scaling walls at my age. Sheesh.

Here's to the 80s, when we were all a lot younger, and we bounced back a little faster from wayward fences!

Bitchin'.