BUT. I *can* crash one day of your super secret trip.
Hey there! I crash your party; I sleep on your couch.
But at least I brought Rum. (Bacardi Peach Red). Because what kind of party crasher shows up empty handed?
here. Ridiculous anthropological (is that even a word?) studies of douchebags are here, and random events here and even here.
What can I possibly add to describe how awesome this super secret trip was? I could talk about how we all piled into a cab like college kids in a phone booth and hid SuperJules AS COPS WATCHED US. Or about how even though SuperJules couldn't have been any more precise, taxi cab drivers do not understand her. It's like she was speaking another language. One nobody understood.
Is that why she was so angry?*
OR even how, after dinner my food started attacking my innards and made me leave the douchetastic outing before my food ejected itself from my stomach, which it was most definitely was going to do before my night was over(damn you, you oversensitive stupid tummy).
Why was this dude trying to put me in a headlock?*
And how cute Biddy was worrying about me going back to the condo solo. OR? About the even more super secret field trip as we got lost on the way to the airport. (You know what's really awesome? Being a Marine's wife and therefore being able to get on ANY BASE IN THE COUNTRY) AND I came home with a bottle of Vodka, and (yo, ho ho) TWO bottles of Rum.
But you know, really? It was just a bunch of girls having some drinks*.
*these photos stolen from Grace and/or Biddy.