I hit all four framilies this evening. First, Doobie and I went to Thirsty Thursday to vent some steam over Mr. Morris. It seems that, like most 21 year old men, he says “I’ll call you.” and then does not. Ass. But there was baseball and beer.

Then, there was rugby and girls. And the title of this post was not a quote from me, but from my dear sister Doobie, as she grabbed her boobs in the Brewing Co. parking lot. Have I mentioned that I Heart My Sister?  Since the rugby girls decided to convene at the ABC after practice, I was also able to squeeze in a little Drinking Liberally time as well before the pub crawl on Saturday, which has been moved to 6 pm, in case you were planning on attending. I am unable to play rugby, due to an old sports injury from my mis-spent youth, wherein my cousin sat on me and bounced up and down after winning a basketball game. I didn’t want to hurt him for it before, but now I do.

After ABC, we split to Scully’s: Ivy and Dirty and I. That was intended to be vaguely reminiscent of Winken and Blinken and Nod, but I didn’t quite make it and I can’t be fucked to go and look up the syntax right now. Anyway, we parked, and who should come wandering by but The Director, The Sex Educator, The Doctor and Hidey Ho! So away the 8 of us went, into the bar and onward.

I feel that perhaps I am not enough of an alcoholic to keep up with Ivy, and that any attempt made in that direction would be in vain. But she is Super Hot.

As the new Rugby Beer Wench/Water Girl, I feel like a groupie or hanger-on. That is not a position in which I feel comfortable. I want a definite job. Or perhaps I am misjudging and Water Girl is a perfectly respectable position, one which has myriad benefits, and I should just shut my mouth and show up when they tell me to.