- Two weddings
- Two funerals
- One weekend
The Dude described me to a friend as "born and pasteurized in Wisconsin."
Bringing back-up ballet flats for after everyone has had a few drinks and no one cares anymore has saved my feet.
It was still too many hours in heels.
The hotel suite we shared with some friends had a fireplace. It was a glass fireplace. Through which you could see one bed from the other.
It's possible for a drinking straw to taste terrible.
Some guy asked a friend from South Africa if she spoke "that clicky language." (Because, you know, she came from that general continent area.) I feel this was more than enough grounds to punch him in the teeth.
My friend from South Africa is a much nicer person than I am.
She can also wear high heels for like seven consecutive hours without showing any visible signs of wanting to kill herself.
I have now been introduced to everyone the Dude has met. Ever.
Of course, I'll still need to be re-introduced next time, because I can hardly remember a name when I meet people one at a time, much less by the dozen.
Having heard more stories from the Dude's family about what he was like as a child, I now understand why some species eat their young. (Though I guess he turned out mostly okay in the end...)
I managed to get through three sit-down meals in nice clothing without spilling anything or dribbling food down my chin.
I'm counting this one a success.