Yea, I get it.  It’s been a while since I’ve posted.  I’ve been lazy I guess.  There are some new developments.  I am a year older, the Saints are ridiculous, I’m no longer going to Katz after a night downtown (I think), and I’ve taken to mergers and acquisitions (I’ve acquired a boyfriend, and have begun merging the contents of my closet onto his bedroom floor).  Luckily, I am still alive, and although my liver has walked out of my body in protest, I am still fully functioning. 

But let me digress for a moment while I have your attention. 

It’s the holiday season, and I’m totally full of cheer and junk.  However, there is one tiny little nuisance of Christmas that really gets under my skin.  And that little nuisance would be Mistletoe.  I really don’t like it.  In fact, some might say that I hate it.  I especially hate it when someone sticks it over the keg, because that’s definitely cheating, and it’s a sure-fire way to ensure my sobriety for the night.  Want me to be the DD?  Put the mistletoe over the bar.  I won’t go over there. 

I guess I hate it because it makes me feel awkward.  I’m not really a fan of smooching in public, and I assure you no one wants to see it anyway.  I doubt it looks pleasant.  Plus, there always seems to be some creepy person slowly lingering around that despicable plant.  Or, some smooching hussy who gets drunk and tries to smooch everyone’s boyfriends by luring them that direction (ZING!). 

But enough about mistletoe…

So my 25th birthday just passed.  I have no qualms about admitting that.  I feel like 25 is a pretty cool number, and if someone asked me how old I was in rounded numbers, I’d not get to say 30, which is also pretty cool.  You might think that I went a bit crazy for this occasion… but you would be wrong.  The Saints were playing the Patriots that day, so I had my priorities.  In a show of solidarity and birthday support, everyone came to the Tap Room for some Monday Night Football.  Even better, the friends all cheered for the Saints, and one lucky Pats fan cheered for the Saints for one night only.  We had cupcakes with trick candles which almost set the building on fire when Nataliya put the lit candles in a cardboard box because they wouldn’t go out.  I swooped in for the win, poured my water on them, and saved the day.  Yes, I went to college…

So, most of the following weeks passed anticlimactically.  There was a great scene at Katz, that I may or may not have been present for (I’m getting conflicting reports as to whether or not I was there… but I think that I wasn’t).  Apparently, Thumper, Not Crazy Jenn, and Brosa were hungry but didn’t want Katz.  So they went to Ropollo’s and ordered pizza, that they then brought into Katz Deli.  Despite the hostess’s protests, the girls proceeded to seat themselves in a corner booth and eat their pizza.  The waiter came out to kick them out… but they stood defiant and ate their pizza.  Thumper finally had enough of the Katz staff bossing her around and played the “Do you know who I am?” card.  The waiter was defeated and went to get the manager.  The manager came out and Thumper once again turned on the attitude while Brosa and NCJenn merrily ate their pizza.  In the end, the three slices of pizza and part of the paper plate was consumed, Thumper was victorious, and Mark Katz’s political career was threatened.  I can proudly say that although I was not there to cause a spectacle, I am incredibly grateful that my girlfriends are so willing to carry the torch. 
I have no idea where I was at this point in the night, but based on the soreness of my muscles, I suspect I may have been somewhere with music dancing gaily and casting my locks to and fro. 

On a final note, Frenchy and his ferocious mustache hosted a Rooftop Christmas party and Guz’s Going Away Party.  It was complete with a prom photo-op area, and a Santa pinata.  There was mistletoe… but I’m not about to start that rant again.  We had a white elephant gift exchange, and I won a Spanish English dictionary.  Lots of good stuff happened, but the best part may have been the piñata beat down.  It was stuffed with condoms and nails.  I gotta say, my friends are a clever bunch. 

So that’s it for now… It’s only Monday, so I’m sure I’ll get more reports on the weekend Shenanigans.  Also, Brosa is saying goodbye to Austin and moving to Houston (BOOOOOO!), so we’re having a lovely going away celebration… I guess we know what that means.