Weather Report

Well...jus' started snowin' out about these parts.
Yeeeep.

Okay, I can't really speak for Jackie here, but wow have we ever become the laziest little sluts you ever saw. How long has it been since an update? How long?

Admittedly, I've been doing a fair amount of LiveJournal-ing, but that's more to my personal life and things which are only of interest to those who know me personally, I suppose.
No worries, I'm not turning into an emo-kid or anything. Hell I barely know HTML and have a free LJ account so it's hardly oh-so-different-and-speshul. Basic layout, bare-bones graphics. Whatever.

If you're looking for an update, well here:
Let it be known that last night Em imbibed more alcohol than she has ever had in one sitting and for good reasons relating to this was not later allowed to jay-walk downtown in the dark. Guys at the bar with interesting tattoos bought me shots of Jagermeister like it was supposed to make me coo and wince because I'm a girl and because I've never done much drinking before. Well nice try, but I've had Buckley's worse than that.
Then they groped Jackie a little who fumed more than I have ever seen her fume (and righteously so,) for Jackie is Jailbait Who Dresses Classy & Older. They asked me where we were headed later, because obviously a group of 17/18 year olds and two 19 year olds, one of whom was driving, are going to go out and hit the bars. So basically, I was the only one at our table with some alcohol down me. Some being two margaritas, the Jagermeister and two Bazooka Joes thanks to Chris who promptly announced that he was taking me drinking sometime and then only told me AFTER I'd downed the Bazooka Joes that they turned my teeth blue. Thanks, Chris.
Anyhow, when they asked where we were headed later, I told them flippantly that I didn't know, and "we'll see. Bye."
Since they bought me a shot but otherwise left me alone, I wasn't too mad at them. There are compensations to being the heavy girl in the group--namely that my friends are the ones who get oogled and groped, not me. Because of this tacit camraderie, I didn't want to admit that I wanted to go home and sleep because I was feeling a little woozy and had been working all day up until that point after a fairly sleepless night previously. I also had to go pee, but again, for the sake of appearing wordly and harmlessly flirtatious, I pretended I had no such thing as a functioning bladder and breezily trailed out the door--a decision I came immediately to regret and thankfully some folks wanted coffee so we went to some Italian coffeeshop a block away and I apparently spent a long time in the washroom, as by the time I came out five or six people had their drinks ready to go. (To be fair, Chris had warned me about this and earlier has refused to let me go pee. Apparently, if you "break the seal" after you've started drinking, you will never stop peeing. Chris then, to illustrate his point, launched into a parody of Don Hertzfeldt's "Rejected Cartoons," using the anal-bleeding section as a backdrop. Only instead of the classic "my anus is bleeding!" he substituted someone I assumed to be me, screaming: "I can't stop peeing!"
At the time I thought nothing of it, but when I got up this morning--whoo boy, he was kind of right.

Overly-friendly ("but still friendly!") guys at bar, Chris and his knowledge of drinking lore, and Emily's new-found circle of acceptance in the coterie of drinkers--gunned down!