The reunion pics...

Ok, so I have kept you all in suspense for long enough. Some of these pictures were pilfered from one of my cousins. And although this was the last picture taken of the weekend, it was posted first just to give you all a preview of what all is involved with the rag-tag assemblage of miscreants who gather to celebrate their membership in this bizarre clan.

The picture shows roughly 50 of us, but there were a few others in attendance who were too busy doing other things to stop for the photo op.


I'll avoid unnecessary commentary on the self-explanatory pictures... You're sharp enough to get the idea.



There was no organized family volleyball game this year, which I found as something of a disappointment because we had so much fun with it last year.








I don't know who brought this thing along, but as far as being a handy place to entrap small children it was a wonder!

And then the drinking begins... And after a night of drinking, I felt a little grumpy, much like Charlie the Unicorn... Imagine my surprise when I walked into the living room and find my own magical leopleurodon on the sofa. (For those of you who are unaware of the significance of the magical leopleurodon, you obviously must go here.)


...And with that, I knew that it was time for me to go on my own adventure to candy mountain... though instead of candy mountain, I was desperately seeking alcohol island.

We started early by drinking beer while watching the Cubs game.



The picture of the Children Playing sign is something of a tradition... because we're all children this weekend. And we come to play!


And of course there are people with REAL children...





And for those of you who are familiar with my Drunken Cubbies Weekend adventures, you remember Tarreck, who is a perpetual 30-something child.

And here's the latest edition of "this is where my toes go..." At one of the strategically placed campfires!

Shortly after my toes arrived at that campfire, so did the smore preparation team!

And then I found myself thrust right back where I belong! I have located the mythical Alcohol Island!

And a heated poker game!

And along with the other games and festivities this year saw the return of the karaoke machine! (There are incredible numbers of karaoke pictures, and I know that these might get a little repetitive, but I think that they also have a really great flip-book-montage quality to them.)















It should be noted that Elise (pictured below in the stripey shirt) brought all kinds of hilarity to the karaoke madness, but did not in any way recall it the following morning. And here are the photos to prove it!











I'm not entirely sure what's going on in these shots, but I know it was funny, and I was glad it was captured for posterity.











And here are a few of the alchies who stayed up after the karaoke machine was forced out of commission by grumpy parents who didn't want us howling and waking their children anymore.




These are the pictures that were safe to post... There was an odd little addition to the reunion that I think bears mentioning... "The Boob Room."

Don't ask me how it was conceived, or the real purpose of it, but all I know is that it was a bunch of drunken females congregating in one of the bedrooms and there was a great deal of flashing going on. And it became one of the drunken amusements to try to lure in unsuspecting ladies and force them into showing off the goods.

And there you have it... If you'd like a more detailed account, I'll give it to you, but I thought it better to just let the pictures speak for themselves!

Apologies... Once again.

I don't know if too many of you really give a damn whether or not I've been posting for the last week, but for the few of you out there who love your daily dose of lizzle time, I offer my humblest apologies for depriving you of the privilege. It was not a premeditated or malicious withholding of information, I assure you.

You see, after returning from the family reunion I had to return to reality as well. That meant submitting the paperwork from the week preceding the reunion, as well as getting another week's worth of work under my belt. It is a totally lame excuse, I know, but still.

In other news, my brother was hit by a drunk driver last week, and while he wasn't hurt, the back end of his truck was relocated to occupy the same space as the the hood of her car, and as with any car accident he was a little sore the next day, and he was more than a little rattled about the whole thing, so I had a conversation with him regarding his mortality, and things of that nature.

And for those of you who remember my excitement over a recent purchase, (the DVD boxed set of Six Feet Under, for those of you too lazy to go look,) I probably shouldn't have to tell you all that pretty much every spare moment of my week has been spent reacquainting myself with the Fisher family. And on a related note, I must say that it is a really good thing that I absolutely adore my mother, because I showed her the pilot episode and she was hooked. She has since developed a serious and deepening addiction resulting in many hours lounging at my apartment rather than dealing with grandpa's malarkey and his increasingly cantankerous attitude. I think it's HILARIOUS because she will come over with the intention of watching one or two episodes and when a story line leaves her hanging she starts jonesing for more and says things like, "No, I can't leave it at that! I have to go, but I need one more! Just one more episode!" or "Just one more and then I'll go... But just one!"

She has found the broadcast equivalent of crack. And she is helpless to its power. She was seduced by that first hit, and well, the rest as they say is history. She also now totally understands why I went to the expense of purchasing the set for myself... (Before her exposure, she was horrified at the cost. But now I think there is a small part of her that is envious that I have it all to myself out at my apartment, as evidenced by her saying as she was departing my abode following a 5 episode binge this evening, "You're going to watch without me now, aren't you! You're going to watch more without me!")

I'll probably get to posting those reunion pictures tomorrow. We'll see.

FYI

I'm still alive.

I'm not face down in a ditch, dead of alcohol poisoning or anything.

The reunion was GREAT!

I'll post the photo-laden recap when I get an opportunity to sift through all of the pictures... And there are LOTS!

Update coming soon.

And I'm off!

I toyed with entitling this post, "Dear sweet little 6 pound, 8 ounce baby Jesus, please don't let this weekend be the end of my days in the social services industry, we both know I still need the job!"

The fact is, there are a few of you out there who love the stories of my annual family reunion... I know I sure do enjoy going out on the reconnaissance mission to collect them for you! I can't guarantee that any youtube clips will emerge from this event, as there is only a limited amount of memory on my digital camera, and if the pictures occupy too much space, then the video will get bumped. I will, however, promise plenty of pictures, provided that I remain sober enough to remember how to operate the damn camera. (It hasn't been a problem in the past, but who knows what this year will bring!)

So this post is just to let you know that I'm packing now, and that I will go to work in the morning and take off immediately thereafter, andsince I'm going to be out in the sticks, this is the last you'll hear from me for a couple of days.

You bitches stay hot, and all that malarkey!

See ya later, sluts!

It's the final countdown!!!

If there are a few of you out there who read that title and instantly thought of that awesomely bad song by Europe, I won't hold it against you... In fact, you just earned a few extra cool points in my book for knowing your awesomely bad music!

But no, this is not a post about the highly addictive yet truly bad for you music of the mid-1980's. (Some of that stuff really is like crack!) No this post is about something FARRRRRRR more important and culturally significant.

Think of this post as an appetizer. It's just a little something to whet your appetite and get you all good and salivated for the arrival of a post that several of you long-term readers have come to love and anticipate every summer. And you guessed it, it's that time of year!

Yes, that's right folks, we are in the final days before the annual family reunion.

This year we will once again be having the annual drunken roast known as my family reunion at a ranch conveniently out in the back woods somewhere here in the midwest. Some of you might think that having this thing in the back woods of the midwest would make it inconvenient. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yeah driving out there is a bitch, but once you're there, you don't have to worry about pesky things like neighbors, or police enforcing laws that apply to things like noise violations or underage drinking. (No, I don't advocate or encourage underage drinking, but I can't be responsible for what some adult members of the family allow their children to do at this annual event... And I don't have to remind you that I am of legal age.)

So anyway... Those of you who have been around for a while know that this is a big deal, and that there are always large numbers of pictures complete with stories from the event... And who doesn't love that?

But we're only an hour from Wednesday morning, and I leave work early on Friday afternoon to get a jump on the festivities. It will be choice! And this year promises to deliver the normal levels of drunken hilarity, debauchery, (though hopefully not debauchery of the sexual variety, as this IS a family event, and we're not down with that in my family,) and general amusement.

So we're down to roughly two and a half days before the amusements begin! And of course I'll be back on Sunday evening to recount everything for you, provided I'm not face down, dead on the sand volleyball court of alcohol poisoning.


You're chomping at the bit now, aren't you!?!

Good! That's how it ought to be!

A tough habit to break...

I have long made it publicly known that I am a procrastinator of EPIC proportions. I've always managed to get by in spite of my nasty little habit. (When you're smart, most of the time procrastination is something you can afford in school.) In middle school, I put together projects, and won prizes in science fairs for stuff that I spent maybe an hour on, when in reality I'd been given two weeks. It wasn't so much because of the effort put forth in that hour, but because I understood even then that it was all about presentation. If you can make it look good, people will buy whatever crap you're selling. It's always been about style, and not about substance. Sure substance is all well and good when you're willing to put forth an honest effort, but when you're not in love with the idea of a project, and you could really care less about putting an honest effort into it, you're really a whole lot less likely to get a jump on things and spend as much time as possible making sure it not only has substance, but also that it looks good.

I took this nasty little habit up to its highest levels in college. And trust me when I tell you that there is no place where procrastination is more readily rewarded and completely embraced than in the American institutions of higher learning known as universities. I mean sure, you could actually go to classes, listen to lectures, take really great notes, and read all the assigned text, but that's no fun! I was much more satisfied with sleeping in, going out boozing, not buying the textbooks, borrowing notes from classmates, and checking out the sparknotes.com outlines of the texts, and writing papers based on what could be readily gleaned from those resources. I quote John Nash in the movie A Beautiful Mind when I say I lived by the theory that "Classes will dull your mind, destroy the potential for authentic creativity." In that spirit, I often found that I excelled in some of the classes I attended the least because the information I extracted from my set of resources was not polluted by the opinions of those who presented them in lecture, thus my papers were often regarded as "a fresh look into the subject" or "a starkly different perspective on the material." ... Like I said before, when you're smart, you can get away with that stuff because you know how to reassemble it to make it look fresh and different, when in fact it's just a bunch of crap amassed at the last possible moment.

I'd say that my worst (or best, depending on how you want to look at it) exploitations of my procrastination and the skills cultivated as a result came in my junior year. By this time I was the queen of the all-nighters. I will save one of those stories for another day, but suffice it to say that I "studied" for a final while out closing down the campus watering hole to celebrate a friend's birthday. That story is one of my favorites. A story of equal or perhaps even greater magnitude though, was when I had 3/4 of a semester to complete a research project for a class which was 100% related to, and required for my major. And to be honest, the project really should have taken that long. But if you're willing cut a few MAJOR corners to fake the numbers in a project that doesn't matter to anyone but your professor, and if it is 100% guaranteed that there is no way that said professor can check your numbers, and you know how to plug those numbers into the computer program that you've been taught to use to analyze the data to get statistics and charts, well, let's just say that 3/4 of a semester can be condensed into about an hour's worth of work. And then you can spend five or six hours writing up a 25 page work of fiction examining, explaining, and processing an analysis of your fictitious results. And when you get an A on that project and feel no remorse, it might indicate to some that you're something of a sociopath, but to others of you out there, it would indicate that you've got your priorities in line, and that a 25 page research project and write-up ranks rather low on the list when compared with things like celebrating Tuesday at the bar, or catching a Cubs game from the bleachers, or perhaps lounging on the beach a block from campus.

Why even now I am actively procrastinating. I'm writing this post rather than working on my weekly paperwork. I'm putting off what I've put off all week. Spending another few moments with you fine people and not being the good little worker bee that they pay me to be. I should point out that when it comes to my weekly paperwork, I document as thoroughly as possible. I keep notes, I keep tabs on my clients, and I make it to every appointment as scheduled. I just put off typing it all up on the formal sheets until the latest hour of the last possible day. I've had conversations with people I haven't spoken to in years, I've watched movies I've owned for a long time, I've showered, I've vacuumed, I've done everything I can to further delay the onset of my paperwork... And for lack of a better ending, I can only tell you that I'm getting down to the wire now, so it's about time for me to get started.


Have a lovely, delightful, spectacularly swell day!

Because I'm old...

When I was young I'd save my allowance and babysitting money for trips to Toys R Us, or the mall. I bought things like a skip it, a pogo ball, a pack of garbage pail kids cards (complete with a petrified pink stick of gum,) ... You know... The important stuff!

But now that I'm old, I spend my money on things like rent, insurance, food, gas for my automobile, ...You know... The important stuff.

But in the interest of maintaining my sanity, (when I have it available) I occasionally have to spend a little "fun money" on myself. And now that I'm old buy things that we old folks find entertaining. For example, today I decided it was time to blow a little cash and ended up with this. I also got some books.

Because that's what we old people use as a means of entertainment... And since I rarely watch TV, it didn't make sense to spend it on cable... After all, the sports on cable are free when you're out drinking at the sports bar.

But because I'm old, I'm happy with my purchase!

(And that's all that matters.)

Don't get mad at me, jerkface!

So I was meeting with one of my clients today. I was making an effort to prepare her for the fact that someone else would be meeting with her in a couple of weeks so that I could take a damn day off and get a little much-needed R & R.

Now, this is one of the clients I've had since I started. And I've made every single appointment with her to this point... FOR SIX MONTHS... And do you know what she did?

BITCH GOT MAD AT ME!

She got all huffy and said, "Well, where the hell are you going!?"

I told her, "Well, I'm going out of town."

She got all pissy and said, "I gather that. Where are you going?"

"I'm going out of town on personal business. That's all I'm going to say on the matter."

"Well, I can't believe you're just going to up and decide to leave! I mean who is going to meet with me?"

"I'll only be gone for the one appointment, we'll find someone who has the availability to meet with you, and they will carry out your appointment as scheduled... There should be no inconvenience to you whatsoever."

She then launched into a tirade about how she didn't want some stranger in her house, and how she couldn't believe I was leaving her. It was about this time that I wanted to point out that she has skipped out on plenty of appointments with me, and that left me with nothing to do for our scheduled time, so my missing one appointment and finding someone else to meet with her should hardly be an issue, but of course, I'm not allowed to say any of this. (Again with the control of the inner monologue thing.)


I don't have anything else worthy of report, but this just irritated me enough to mention!

What once was lost...

From time to time, I'm occasionally what some people refer to as "absent minded."

It's not deliberate. I just get a little scatter-brained and forget about stuff.

I forgot to schedule an oil change to fall on my day off for the last two weeks. Thus my car is significantly over the 3,000 mile mark. I forgot to schedule an appointment to see my "woman doctor" ... (There are few words in the English language that bother me, but the actual word for "woman doctor," that's one of the few.) I misplaced my ID badge for work... This is something of a problem when foster parents want to know who the hell is picking up the kids. I lost an insurance application. I more than occasionally can't find my keys or my phones, lose my debit card, and mislay paperwork... It all eventually works out and everything turns up. Sometimes it just takes a few days.

Well today, without much ceremony or feverish searching, I found my ID badge. I found my insurance form, I found some addresses I'd been looking for, and I found something I didn't even know I had! I found, much to my surprise that I actually have vacation days!

So far, I've been laboring under the premise that until my 1 year anniversary I only had 3 personal days to use in addition to the few paid holidays that my office observes. Well, I was trying to schedule a day off for the drunken debauchery of the annual family reunion, and when I got the slip in my mailbox today, it indicated that I DO have vacation time! HOLY CRAP!

That means that I went 6 months without taking any time off, (because I didn't think I COULD!) and now all of a sudden I've got paid time to take! Now, I'm not one to just blow something as important as a paid vacation day without serious consideration, but let me tell you, since learning of this fortuitous turn of events, I've been trying to determine how best to spend them!

Take the week between Christmas and New Year? Take a few long weekends? I mean, the personal days are for the short notice stuff. But the vacation days are more of the pre-planning type of thing, so now I've got to think about that. I'm not going to lie, it excites me to think about it. I mean this is like a week's salary in free money! WOOOOOO!

In other work related findings, I looked in my little cubby at the office the other day and found, (also, very much to my surprise) MY OWN business cards! This was something of a shock, because they don't just give the personalized business cards to just anybody. When I first started, it was limited only to senior staff. We're talking about the founders of the office, the senior supervisors, and the therapists who had been there for something like 4 years or more. Now, yes, there were others who got personalized business cards at the same time I did, but still, it was not a privilege bestowed upon the entire staff... Not by a long shot. But I got mine! (I take this as a good sign.)

As far as work goes, things are going relatively well. I've had some upheaval in my cases, but in this line of work, one comes to expect that. But I've also found that I've really cultivated a skill that I had let languish and atrophy for a good long while. Those of you who actually know me on a personal level know that I've always been one to speak my mind. Basically, nine times out of ten when I think someone is full of shit, I'm the one to call them out on it. I've done this pretty much my whole life... I know I certainly did it A LOT in college. I did it A LOT after college. But when you're in this line of work, it's all about guarding what you say, and withholding your personal opinion. I wasn't used to that! NOT AT ALL. I'm finding that with every passing day the control over my inner monologue gets a little bit better. It frequently surprises me that I am able to wait until I'm in my car with the radio on, the windows up, and the doors closed before calling some of my clients crazy bitches... And believe me when I tell you, some of the time it takes every single ounce of self control I have to make it to the car before verbalizing such sentiments... And it happens AT LEAST once a week. Usually more than once... But hey, I go in, and I deal with em, because hey, I gotsta get paid, sluts!

Ok, so it's been a little while...

I told you all a while back that I attended a party hosted by one of my coworkers. I told you all that I had a good time, and that I took pictures. Unfortunately for you all, when I am the one taking the pictures, it means that I am not the one in them... So you don't get to look at my hot ass. Sorry.

These are not in any particular order, as you can tell if you pay attention to things like the degree of darkness of the sky outside... It's also evident if you're accustomed to examining photographic evidence of the degrees of drunkenness.


Here goes!

This is Ben. Ben and I are pals... He occasionally plays softball for us even though he doesn't work at the same office with the rest of us on the team.


This is an example of a photo from later in the evening being posted early in the post. This picture shows the setup of what was probably the last round of flippy cup. Here we see Nicole, Erin, Jeremy, and Angie. Angie was a lightweight, but more on that in a moment.


Here we see Brent and Nicole playing a little beer pong. We're not entirely sure why Brent was shirtless, but for whatever reason, he was, and he gets all pouty over things like having to put a shirt on. We just don't fight it.


Here we see an animated discussion in the garage... I believe at this point the boys were arguing with the girls because they were upset over being totally routed at flippy cup. From left to right we see Nicole, Jason, Rebecca, Drew, Ben, the back of Erin's head, and Brent's shoulder.


In another example of chronological errors we see Brent and Jason warming up for the first round of flippy cup. (As it turned out Jason had never played flippy cup before but was a bit of a savant, as he managed to get his flip on the first try in both his first and second games.)


Relatively early in the evening, Brent decided it would be a good idea to go and pass out. We loved the irony that he passed out in a little girl's room. (No the kids weren't at home.) Here we see Nicole harassing Brent for being a little bitch.


Of course, a little while later we caught Nicole just before she decided to go and pass out.


Seeing as it is Drew's house, he's the one dictating where people get to pass out.


In another chronological incongruity, we see a SLIGHTLY less drunk (when compared to the photo above) Drew, having a chat with his neighbor Kirk.


And in the final picture we see Angie eating bread while Rebecca supervises. Supervision was necessary because, as we noted before, Angie was a total lightweight. Despite everyone's best efforts, I believe she puked on the kitchen floor about 15 minutes after this was taken. Eh, such is life I suppose.


In other news, on Saturday, while I was driving to a couple of my appointments, I saw a sight that will unfortunately be forever be burned into my retinas.

I was rolling down a heavily populated road, which is host to a bevy of restaurants which commonly allow organizations to have fund raising car washes in their parking lots. Seeing as it was a hot July Saturday afternoon, it was prime time for these car washes.

One organization having a car wash on this particular day was the local women's roller derby team.

There are a few men out there who read "women's roller derby team" and instantly began salivating at the idea. Well, I am unfortunately here to tell you that you need to just go ahead and roll up your tongue and put those salivary glands on ice.

Basically these "ladies" (and when I use the term "ladies" I mean it in the loosest possible interpretation of the word,) anyway, these ladies looked like an odd assorted collection of slight variations of Beth Ditto.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Beth Ditto, I suggest you mosey over to Dlisted and do a quick search. (I'll wait.)

Now that we're all on the same page, I'll paint a picture for you.

Picture it: You're driving along, minding your own business, trying to get from A-to-B to make a buck. Suddenly you are visually assaulted by something on the order of about a dozen of these Beth Ditto-esque, rather large, scantily clad "ladies" yelling and waving neon signs advertising their car wash... I rapidly found myself in my car with a sudden urge to vomit, (and yet in the train wreck sort of way totally unable to tear my eyes from the scene,) as I have never seen so much bare, ghostly pale cellulite! (And I was a lifeguard at city-run pools in the midwest for 7 years, so that's REALLY saying something.)

I hope you really enjoy that morning doughnut.


QOTD

Alana: "I know I'm not that cute... I'm funny, I'm skinny, I've got personality, but I'm not that cute!"
Liz: "Shut up, you're hot."
Alana: "Well, thanks, but I don't think so... I mean you're gorgeous."
Liz: "Well, that's really nice of you to say, but I'm average looking."
Alana: "No you're not! YOU'RE HILARIOUS, SMART, AND GORGEOUS!"
Liz: "Umm, not really. I'm alright, I've got personality, and a sense of humor, but when coupled with my large ass, I'm just average."
Alana: "You shut up right now or when I come down there I'm going to punch you in the ovaries!"