Okay. Now that we are caught up with who is who� I just want to say that those three or four hours with Mister, Chad and Nicki were absolutely awesome. We didn�t just stroll down memory lane� We stomped down that son of a bitch. And, and� I thought my memory was watertight ya�ll. Foolproof.

Ha ha ha�

Um, no.

Apparently Chad has been telling Nicki this story of the �pseudo hand job� for about oh, twelve years and I did not remember a bit about it.

No, no� it isn�t as slutty as it seems at first. But when she busted out with that description of it. In front of my husband. I am sure may face read and my voice said something to this effect: �Ha. Ahem, oh, shit. Uh, I did what now?�

(sidetrack: Totally listening to Yaz�s �Midnight� off of the Upstairs at Eric�s album right now.)

Apparently one Halloween after we all graduated we were going to Jitterbugs (Hi, still burned to the ground. Insurance scam much?) for a costume party and we decided to dress Chad up as apparently the world�s tallest and hairiest woman. He was sporting a fu-manchu/handlebar mustache at the time and insisted that if he was going to embarrass himself dressing like a woman, he wanted to have massive hooters.

So, we (seriously ya�ll� this is allllll hearsay. I do not remember a THING.) put Chad in one of his fianc�s dresses, put one of her impressive bras on him and stuffed that sucker full of socks and tissue. He had full make up on, his boots and a hat. Sexy right? 6�4� or something. Stick thin and um, not very womanly. Unless you prefer your women to have mustaches that look like this.

He proceeded to get tore up at Jitterbugs and was leaning on the bar ordering a beer and looked over at this woman standing next to him. She looked him up and down and he did the same and then told her, �My tits are bigger.� She (from what I hear) grabbed him (inappropriately) and was all up in his dress wearing business. She got a bit frisky with him I walked over (seriously� HEARSAY) to �save� him (these are HIS words ya�ll) from this rowdy woman. And maybe a bit from himself as his fianc� was a scrappy, nasty, nasty girl. She�d just as soon kick your ass as� well. She�d just like to kick your ass.

Klassy. Yes, with a capital K.

So I took hold of Chad and his beer and pulled him away from Grabby McSlutterson and then set about righting his costume. Hat? Straight. Boots with knee socks? Fairly strange looking sticking out of the bottom of a dress. Fake hooters? A little lopsided, oh well. Then apparently I looked at him and said, �You have a something on the front of your dress.� And I started wiping at him like he was four and I wanted to get the schmutz off of his outfit. (HIS WORDS!) I kept wiping until I realized that I was trying to brush his quite attached package completely off of his person. Then I turned scarlet and said something along the lines of, �Oh, that�s� you.� Annnnnnnnnnd then I ran away.

Nice.

Trix? Do you have pictures of this? Can you confirm or deny? LuLu? Anyone? (Chad you stay out of this� I�m trying to clear my good name... AH hahahahahahahaa� ahem.)

I don�t think I actually have pictures of this alleged situation. (I do have one of Derrick mooning me. Don�t tempt me. I�ll post it. And then he�ll be the p0rn star of the journal world.) What I do have are pictures of the puppy outside in the snow. Yes, ya�ll� it snowed on 11/30/06 in Dallas. I? Was in Houston.

Well, I was about to post the picture of Galen in the snow and one of my Christmas Tree. But alas, I have run out of room. [::ding::] I just had an idea. Let me see if I can host the photo�s on Blogger, and then I�ll link them. Brilliant. Hell, I�m not using Blogger for anything else, and I never chose a winner of the Cheese Off. I suck. Hi.