Bunco

Someone once called blogging a way of keeping a glorified journal (oh hey, Cindy).  Oh, she wasn't knocking it - we were just talking about it - because she has one too, you know.  I've always loved the idea of having a journal and have at least four or five that I've had since I was middle school-ish.  They all have random entries here and there.  I was never really good at keeping one consistently - obviously.

All this to say is that this post might not make any sense to you at all, and that's ok - 

it's all just a part of my glorified journal.

So I can read this post,

look back,

remember, and

smile & laugh -

because Bunco rocked my face off last night.

And with that, the random list begins:

Irish Potatoes - oh. my. word.

Oops, I didn't pick that one up.

I would love to burn old pictures of myself, but they ARE fun to look at.

Hail.  What the hail?
Remember French cut bathing suits - ew.

Stop throwing them at people.

How many do we have?
She doesn't get out much - she has four kids.
You can't talk to her, look at her, or interact with her while she's rolling -
she has two kids.

This reminds of latching.  Disagree.

Did you just flick a shamrock into my shirt?

The nonexistent being is better than I.

I'm sorry I just walked into your wall.

Annnnd I'm sorry I keep screaming while your children are upstairs trying to sleep.

Thanks for a fun time, girls!

Photo by: Steve Grosbois