This is me captured at a very unflattering moment, talking to Miss Abby, who is luckily more photogenic than I at the moment. Thank you, Miss Kathy! But I must say, the alcohol loosened up the dancing hips and I had a very wonderful time. I even got my friend Chris to dance with me! That's right, Miss Amanda, you read that right. After you left, I got stodgy Mr. Chris to dance with me. I believe it was my magic hips! I left a drunken comment on LilRed's blog at 2 a.m. CST testifying to the enormous amounts of fun and alcohol I had.
But as bad as a bad photo and throwing up a Whopper might be during a night of carousing, Uberdilf has it far worse than me. He always, ALWAYS, wherever he goes, captures the attention of the wierdest person around. This person always tries to communicate with him. Sometimes the communication is nonverbal, like in the parking lot following a Notre Dame football game when some random drunken fan came right up to my husband, roared in his face and stuck his tongue out, then continued on his way. Or, as in our outing last night, that person will initiate odd verbal conversations.
My husband is the one NOT wearing the shiny silver shorts and the fanny pack. He claims he merely kept this highly intoxicated man from careening into us dainty ladies at the bar. This is true; I remember this guy lurching unsteadily toward us and Uberdilf stopping his downward fall. Unfortunately, this guy interpreted his actions as proof of deep and abiding friendship, and followed Uberdilf around for most of the night. Ah, memories.
