I came home with a balloon sculpted rainbow.
I popped the rainbow.
I don't think I am meant to have happiness.
What a fun night.
***What a terribly lazy writer I have become. Really, what terribly little time I have had to tell my tales***
A birthday Vikings/Packer game had me and my favorite middle aged friends in stitches and on the edge of our bar stools all night.
We pile into Halftime Rec and the night started with a whip. Literally. There were amateur Whip Artists (?) there. I bet there is a name for these whippers. Myself and my other female partner admitted our curiousity to each other, but reluctantly refused to try the whip for it's obvious comments from the grizzly, stage hand crew we were in the company of that night.
The night proceeded with food, laughter, drinks, sports, and balloon creations.
Birthday boy in his birthday hat.
Also photographed, birthday guest in vikings hat.
The only true Packers fan got shamed with a Green and Gold helmet. The downside - she couldn't watch the game, the upside - she couldn't see her own loss.
Somehow I ended up with a rainbow. I thought it would be funny to be sad inside a symbol of happiness. Until this happened:
My happiness is fucked! My happiness is a pile of rainbow vomit spewed all over my marble floors. It still sits there to this day.
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