OK, I'll bite, but you'll have to understand, I was a bit *happy* when I wrote the post and it was sent to the e-mail group I belong to. We were all at a party and I swear, I don't think I've laughed that hard in years.
Here's the message:
Here we sit at Michele's house.... where are the rest of you? it's 3:50 AM in the morning and Andi's on the floor laughing his ass off because Pam was licking, er, no I mean, Pam was taking the butter stick and shaping it with her fingers. Um, I think that she was just being Pam, and Andi caught her in one of her Pam moments and he said, "what are you doing, cleaning the butter?" he thought it was so funny that he ended up on the floor laughing hysterically, and then Pam ran into the bathroom. She said she was just cleaning the butter tray with her fingers because, well, she spilled something on it.
We're all drunk off our arses and I'm very surprised that this e-mail is even coming out coherent. We've talked about all sorts of things 'round the snacks table, from politics, to bisexuality, to animal style (IN-N-OUT!!!!! Get your mind out of the gutter, Marina!! ) Andi supposedly has an arse like a girl, so Gabe says. Ehm.... oh and we talked a lot about Larry and his nevermind. I turned as red as the strange orange cheese ball Michele had sitting on the table and I couldn't stop laughing because you know, the conversation was leaning towards things that were very ehm nevermind. Gabe's making up lyrics to all the songs playing on the stereo.. does anybody want to cheese Gabe? That's what he's asking. Any takers?
Cheese wiz anyone. I think I'm completely tipsy. It's now 4:00 AM and guitars have been dragged out. Oh boy. I'm so freakin' spinning. Michele won't let me type anymore because as always I'm talking a mile a minute, you know I kissed the Blarney Stone... it's supposed to give you the gift of gab, but I already have that and well, then my dad told me my lips would fall off. They haven't yet, thankyouverymuch. I'm so feckin' tipsy?! Stoopid shift key. I can't stand typing on laptops.... you know, that comment took awhile to say... I can't even think of what to call the thing I'm typing on. It's a what? Oh yeah. Gabe's making up lyrics again.
Courtney said to stop it's hurting my brain. I think she should join up with Gabe in the lyrics department. Where's Dallas? Oh god. The guitar they're playing on is from feckin' KMART. OHMYGAWD!!!!! I'm so freakin' tispy. TISPY!!!!!! tipsy!!! LOL!!!!! burnt tortilla chips and bread were enjoyed because that's Pam's culinary specialty.
OK now I need to go. too much has been said, but I was told not to erase it because it's all true. Tee hee.
Bye. I'm typing on Michele's computer - it's Moonie... shhhhhhh don't tell anybody.
Moonie
(oh yeah... you weren't supposed to tell anybody, huh)
P.S Gabe is the butt doctor he said it, it's true.
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If you ask me, I think it's all about drums.
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"If a student with an accordion had come along, I would've played with them ya know...that was where I was at, I was that desperate to play with somebody."
(Larry, about his Mount Temple days, before forming U2)
*Larry, I played accordion. Can I have a drumstick?*
From the heart, on a blue sign, 11-18-01, Vegas
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Tonight the moon has drawn its curtains
It's a private show no one else going to know
I'm wanting
(If You Wear That Velvet Dress)
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Hit Gurl
