Itchy and Bitchy

I am having the most ridiculous weekend, and I am just so glad I didn't take my leave from this whirlwind and head off to BlogHer's festivities.

In short order, the shit I would have missed:
Girl's night which involved following directions that started with "OK, so head towards the jail, but right before you get there, make a left." Turns out, the prisoners in Maui live in a really nice neighborhood, surrounded by some hot real estate. Bastards.

Rollerskating on Friday, which launched with my getting completely hammered on one happy hour margarita during pre-skate dinner. Lethal.

Trying to buy a leash for Max's new-to-him surfboard, which was purchased in a tiny garage-come-storefront under the "Jesus, Coming Soon" sign. The shopkeeper was an enormous man who did not feel inclined to wear a shirt in his place of business. Also, showering ? Totally over rated.

Willow's tattoo party. I wore a short skirt and my city-livin, break 'em out for special occasions knee-high boots, and got me some ink in the master bedroom while festivities ensued in the living room. My ink was located on my right breast, fulfilling my "all tattoos must be covered by a bathing suit" guidelines. The location of the tatto also made the inking a very well-attended portion of the evening - and well documented. More on that later. I also mooned a car approaching the house, that I thought was driven by my friend. It was not my friend's car. It's a shame, that.

Opening the restaurant at 7am - AFTER the party. Not good. Not good at all. Spent the entire shift faking a smile and wincing every time I had boob to bra contact. And muttering things like "my tit hurts" as I made other people bloody marys that I needed pretty desperately for myownself.

So SEE ? It's good that I didn't go. If I had gone, I wouldn't have had this kick-ass Maui weekend.