a sea chanty of sorts

Hey, guys! I'm back! Have you missed me? Don't all say yes at once.

I'm so sorry for the radio silence; I've just been too busy to blog lately. See, normally I write my blog posts on my work computer on my lunch break after sending Meredith a whinging email which basically reads: "Meeeeredith. Tell me what to write about today!" And then I either save them or email them to myself, spruce them up later, and post them quickly at the end of the day. But I've been in training (to be a superhero) for the last two weeks, and while I did manage to check my email and compose several odes to my class instructor's wonderful hair during the training session, I thought blog writing might be frowned upon. And I was too busy at night with 1200 birthday celebrations (some of which were even my own) to do much of anything at my apartment other than feeding the cats and shuffling off to bed.

But now training is over, so you can look forward to reading more of my ridiculous diatribes against avians, if that's your sort of thing. (I might add, however, that none of my blog contributors cowboyed up during my absence. I am breaking up with them.)

So what did you guys do over the weekend? I was a pirate! That's right, an actual skull-and-crossbones wearing, rum drinking, yo-ho singing pirate. My fierce crewmates and I took to the high seas (of Lake Travis) and totally swashbuckled our way into pirate legend! But perhaps I should explain exactly how my pirate's life came to be.

Henri decided to have a Pirate Party, if for no other reason than to get Sarah in a very tiny outfit.



He roped the Drafthouse into sponsoring it, which opened the party up for tons of pirates I'd never met before (a few of whom I perhaps got to know too well by the end of the evening. Ah, rum. You do it to me every time.). And what pirates they were! Henri had specified that no one was allowed on board if they weren't dressed as pirates, and everyone took him at his word. There were some amazing looking pirates up on that boat, y'all. Look at this crowd shot from Sarah:



Doesn't everyone look arrrrsome? Have you started stashing your bounty in a safe place yet?

There were also some ill-advised breast adventures happening, much to my delight and many of my friends' consternation. One lady in particular had corseted her lovely lady lumps in such a way as to have them creating a third and fourth breast, which was just no good. No one likes quadraboob, lady. Sadly, I don't have any photos of that to share with you, but just go to a rennaissance festival somewhere. You'll get the general idea.

My crew was, of course, the fiercest around:



Look at us! You don't want to mess with us, do you? Cause we will cut you with Mandy's plastic sword, and it will totally hurt for at least a few seconds.

Speaking of Mandy, doesn't she look AMAZING with facial hair?



You guys know my type: full beard or nothing at all. But I think I can find it within myself to love someone with facial hair as fierce as that.

We boarded the boat and set off for parts unknown, immediately trading in our drink tickets for a fantastic concoction of rum and sugar-water and seeing who could consume the most ceviche in the shortest amount of time. Mandy won, because she is the Rainman of pickled foods, but I gave her a fair run for her money. Then we all just sat and chatted as Henri spun classic boating songs such as "Rock the Boat" and the Love Boat theme song. The weather was gorgeous; the lake a rippled mirror for that big Texas sky. The air was cool but the sun was warm and it was just the perfect pirating weather. My crewmates and I danced and caught up on each other's lives and generally had a great time:






(the delightful Josh and Erica are studiously ignoring Mandy's slowjamz.)


Upon discovering an uncharted isle, however, we came across our first pirating obstacle! We encountered a party boat full of frat boys and their poor, soon-to-be-date-raped companions, and a fierce battle ensued. We waved our swords, they waved their genitalia . . . it was not pretty. John and I stood way back as we were unsure about the airborne capabilities of the clap and thought it better to be safe than sorry. I mean, just look at these people:


courtesy of sarah

Would you want their fleshy manparts anywhere near you?

Eventually, our pirate fortitude (or, as Henri put it, "the power of geeks in groups") won out and we claimed the isle in the name of . . . wait a tick, we're pirates. We don't need to claim anything for anyone but ourselves. That's the beauty of being a pirate!

Docked, we scrambled on the island in search of gold. Henri surveyed his crew:



I didn't get any gold, but I did get a tear in my stockings and a chat with a lovely woman called Amy for my troubles, so all in all, it wasn't a total waste.

Back on board, our thoughts turned, as they naturally do, to Dance Party! Luckily for us, we'd taken Car Stereo (Wars) hostage and he provided us with ample jams to which we swashbuckled and plundered all evening:



He also provided me with tummy flutterings, cause he is v. cute fer srs. Also, he played NKOTB for me (what? That is a totally topical musical choice.), and as we all know, the quickest way to my heart is through my eleven-year-old crush, Joey McIntyre. (Oh, Joey McIntyre, with your Smiley shirt and your gorgeous eyes. Let's hold hands at recess.) So thank you, Car Stereo (Wars). Also, your computer looks really complicated.

As ever with a dance party, I roped a bunch of strangers into dancing with me. This totally led to me making out with two of them, which was an unexpected gift-with-purchase of my pirate adventures. I must say, either my dancing's gotten better or everyone was a lot drunker (I think it was the latter) because that doesn't usually happen during dance parties. Which is probably good news for my reputation, if not my ego.



I think this photo accurately sums up both the craziness of our Pirate moves and my current state of inebriation.

After I just couldn't dance anymore, I went down to the lower level of the boat, where I ran into the delightful Tim League, who insisted I should drink more, not less. Tim: "I'm Tim League! I own this boat!" Me: "No, you don't." Him: "But I own the alcohol, and I'm giving it to you!" So even though I really, really did not need any more booze, Tim supplied me with several more drinks. Yo ho!

As the party wound down and we shuffled back to the marina, I exchanged cupcakes with Sarah and got Amber in return. Which was a pretty good trade-off, as we had a great time in the backseat of Matt's land-vessle. (Talking, obviously. Get your minds out of the gutter, mateys.) Matt took us to the douchetastic Treasure Island where we met up with some of our brave crew for even more dancing. And, in my case, pouting because I thought I'd broken my camera. (I didn't, it's fine. Yay!) But my emos over the possibly-broken camera were too great to suffer a bunch of frat boys, so Matt and I went over to Bull McCabe's to see Randy. Yay, Randy! I can't remember the last time I saw him, so it was really nice to catch up. Plus, more free beer:



After closing, a still-piratey Meredith and Henri joined us:



And then we all went safely to the various homes of various people, but didn't actually get to bed until after five. Arrr.

You know, earlier in the day, as we drifted down the lake, it occured to me that with the water, the waves, the houses wedged into the hillsides and the taste of spring on the air, I could pretend I was anywhere in the world. France or Italy or somewhere in the Pacific. And I realized I'd not want to be anywhere other than right where I was, seeing old friends, making new ones and feeling connected to a whole boat of strangers. I guess a pirate's life truly is for me.