Thursday, April 1, 2010

"Nothing to write about" turned out to be a pretty long post

I have nothing to write about.

I think it's because I'm reflecting on the last couple of days and not much fun or funny stuff has been happening. My weekend was pretty fun…girl's night out on Saturday night. And boy, did I pay for it Sunday. I actually had to take a nap….and I don't nap…like, ever. But nothing really juicy or funny happened…we had dinner, we had drinks, we sang karaoke, and we danced. And somehow, one of my girlfriends took pictures.

Holy Lord. Drunk white girls should NOT be photographed while dancing. Unless they're professionals and there's a pole involved. But I'm pretty sure they don't let you take pictures in those places.

Other than that, it's been the usual…work, shuttling the kid to tee-ball games, etc.

And now we're gearing up for Easter weekend. The kid informed me that she wanted the pre-packaged Easter basket this year…not the basket-o'-fun I usually whip up. Hey…no prob. Yesterday I ran into the store, grabbed the basket and checked out. No assembly required. Low maintenance child? I dig it.

My mom used to give us the Super-Duper-Easter-Basket-Extravaganza every year. Seriously…you would dig stuff out of that thing till lunchtime. Every year we got the following items in our baskets:

-Razors (once we got older)
-Shave gel (once we got older)

She was nothing if not practical.

Later on, ("later on" as in high school and college…yes, we still got Easter baskets. No one asked us if we still believed or not…and my sister and I, by mutual consensus, decided "why ruin a good thing?" and just kept our mouths shut…don't judge) we would no longer get baskets, just shopping bags with a new outfit and of course, the required items listed above. It was awesome.

We usually also got new dresses to wear to mass. And for some reason? We always bought hats to wear with them. At the time, we looked really dorky were the height of fashion. BUT…O. M. Jesus….it makes for some funny freakin' pictures looking back.

After church, the family would usually come over for lunch/early dinner. We'd cook and hang out and hide eggs for the kids and all that good stuff. Generally, there was some type of sporting event, either basketball in the driveway or wiffle ball in the pasture. And my uncle always got hurt. No, not "sometimes"…."always"…as in, every flippin' year.

And then?

The egg fight started.

Which was a shit-ton of fun until my cousin decided he was smarter than everyone else and started using RAW eggs….that's just not right, man.

The first rule of Egg Fighting? You do not talk about egg fighting.

The second rule of Egg Fighting? You do not use raw eggs for egg fighting.

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