story time

I started this post last week and got distracted:

This is already turning out to be an interesting long weekend... I had yesterday off, and instead of just relaxing or shopping or sleeping, I decided to have a dinner party so instead spent most of the day stressing and freaking out. One of my most daunting challenges is crafting the guest list. I seem to have many groups of friends but am never sure how to intermingle the groups. But last night seems like it was a good mix and everyone was immediately comfortable with each other. The boys all got along, and pretty much ran away together to the porch. Heather asked me if I thought Brett and Brian were making out out there, and I replied that they are both very dashing boys, and that it was highly likely. When we finally put down the Dos Equis and margaritas to eat dinner, the conversation somehow migrated to poop. Hope it wasn't my cooking. Anyway, lots of people seem to have poop stories! So we were laughing and carrying on for quite a while, when my across the hall neighbor wandered over, already quite toasted himself. I barely know him, but the more the merrier and he joined the party. But my friends decided that he, too, needed to share a poop story to get any dinner. He proceeded to tell us a story that he had only told one other person ever and it was indeed gross and well worthy of a meal. Alcohol, people! It's a crazy thing.