Random thoughts from the Party Weekend from HELL:

The secret surprise we were planning on bringing to S in Seattle on Friday? Was it a man? No. Illegal drugs? No. Moonshine? No. Underage Philippians whores? No, better than all those put together. POPEYE's FRICKEN' FRIED CHICKEN! We were planning on stopping in Tacoma to pick some up and take to S's apartment for a booze infused food orgy, but the weatherman or Jesus had other plans. High winds caused a power outage for the shopping plaza that houses Popeye's, which caused the store to be closed on what would have been a very profitable night for them. I've been craving fried chicken ever since but luckily I have a Popeye's within drooling distance of the house.

All that partying and screaming of "fuckpants" this weekend has left me a little hoarse. I've got a sexy "whiskey and cigarettes" voice that the Monk has taken a liking to. Since the voice went away on Sunday and here it is Tuesday and it's still MIA, I'm assuming I will have a sexy voice from now on. Bonus.

Frankie showed S his weenie this weekend. We burst in the bathroom in an attempt to catch a glimpse while he showed but he screamed and hid it. He ended up dropping trou in a bar but I think I was too plastered to remember seeing it, but S does.

I miss S and Rusty since they moved north and I want them to move back. But on the other hand then I won't be going to Seattle anymore to visit them. Ah, the dilemmas!

Leigh is not allowed to wake us up at ungodly hours anymore. Take a Sominex.

I'm not sure who was happier to see me return from my weekend, the Monk or Rufus. Since neither humped my leg, I guess it's a draw.

Party weekends are fun. Wait, "party" with "weekend" is redundant. Sorry. The Roommate needs to go with next time. The Monk too.