Yesterday Darren and I both woke up before 7 am and we were ready to rock and roll. Due to our early rise, we decided to go board the bus at Eden Prairie Center, attend the fair, and return to the mall to watch a movie.

We got to the fair by about 8:30 and boy did we have fun. I befriended a horse named Tessa, suffered “pressure bruises” from the Scrambler, nearly puked on another ride, got suckered into playing a bunch of stupid games that are impossible to win unless you’re Darren, tried fair mini donuts for the first time ever and realized my fear of pigs. And do you know what Darren did? He won me a very large shark, whom I have named President Taft. Well, originally he was Howard, but I realized later on in the evening that Howard just didn’t fit. Needless to say I was the envy of all the small children who laid eyes on President Taft, a shark so large I had to carry by his tail like a “live one” since I could barely fit my arm around his pregnant belly to tote him on my hip.

After the fair, we went to Brothers Grimm. DO NOT GO SEE THIS MOVIE. And if you do, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Go see The Forty-Year-Old Virgin instead and feel pee squirt down your leg.

Then we shopped and came back and I went to Angie’s apartment and drank beer – just her and me and President Taft. And then I saw Chuck even though I didn’t really see him because my contacts were out and he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore and what a jackass.

This week I get to go to the fair AGAIN with my dad, who is coming to visit me and stay at my hotel on Friday and Saturday. I also have a sales retreat so I get to wear jeans(!) and have a day and a half out of the office and stay at a hotel other than my own and drink frosty brews with my co-workers…and get paid for it!

On another note, my diet has gone down the pot. I really need to get back on that horse. Not Tessa, fool, I was speaking figuratively.

LOOK OUT, WORLD. My super-sexy sister is single after two years of being anything but. Be gentle though, boys, she's fragile.

I'm just kidding...I'm sure she likes it rough.

Despite her singlehood, I'm kind of sad. No more Chuck for me. Two years of bonding down the shitter. No more whooping his ass in beer guzzling contests, no more darts, no more drunken hugs and pictures and pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend. No one left to encourage me to drink until I puke, then rub my back as I vomit buffalo wings all over the back of his toilet. No more drinking, probably. No more downtown buddy. No more Chuck.

As I told Angie last week, I don't think I'm ready to break up with Chuck. And it's true. Who knew playing Apples to Apples would probably be the last time I ever hung out with him. And to think he even helped me clean up that night when I knocked those popcorn kernels all over the floor due to the full body erection caused by the mere mention of glazed donuts.

I'll miss that guy, but my liver sure won't.

No Aurora, I didn't meet Outkast. Laziness always gets the best of me.

Yesterday I dropped a two-quart glass pitcher full of pink lemonade on the floor. I broke Darren's (favorite!) pitcher and wasted all that good lemonade and THEN I had to clean it up. I wasn't amused.

I just made another pitcher of pink lemonade in the plastic pitcher since I'm not allowed to eat anything today. I'm going to Angie's to drink beer tonight and that really uses up my calories quickly, so I thought I'd try to get full from Crystal Light. So just now I was so excited that I might be able to get my bus passes for cheaper that I knocked my full glass of pink lemonade all over the desk reaching for the calculator to check my math.

Also, last week I knocked a glass off the nightstand and got some sort of fluid (moldly apple juice, perhaps) all over the wall and the floor RIGHT before bed. Out of bed with me...clean that moldly mess up, woman.

My clumsiness is making me miserable. Do they make sippy cups for adults?

The other day I was sitting here at the computer and I felt something under my bare foot. Naturally, I picked it up with my toes and brought it up from under the desk to look at. At first I thought it was a Gardetto breadstick, but during the transfer from toes to hand, I realized that it was, in fact, cat puke. It was so light and crusty. I wonder when the lemur started seeking privacy to hurl. I told my mom about this and she gagged. She literally gagged and nearly hurled herself. It wasn't that gross though...not if you were there.

This past weekend I experienced my first Lutheran service. You Lutherans know how to rock! I couldn't bring myself to clap along with the band, however. I was worried that any "Catholic" that gets into a Luthean ceremony enough to clap will surely go to hell. (I don't really think that, by the way.) The reason I was basking myself in the Lutheran culture is because Darren's best friend's daughter (and now Darren's God-daughter) was being baptized. She's five months old and I swear to you she is a living, breathing cabbage patch kid. I was so tempted to check her little butt for Xavier Roberts' signature.

Also, shake it like a Polaroid picture - I COULD meet Outkast tomrorow!

Sometimes I forget I have a blog. Like for the past two weeks. Whoops.

I just got back from lunch with a bunch of lovely ladies that I don't see nearly enough. It was lots of fun and I got to catch up with them and it's been decided that Camp Shack will be September 24. Or the 17th. Whatever works better for you, Dear Reader. Because, you know, you ARE invited.

I think I know why I haven't been blogging. My life is depressingly simple. I cringe when I try to find subjects of interest to others and realize I HAVE NONE. However, tomorrow I'm going to the Twins game and I sincerely hope I go on the right night this time.

Also, two thumbs down to dieting. Two thumbs even further down to gaining 15 pounds since finding employment. I just can't have everything going my way at once, can I? I suppose the gluttonous amounts of pizza, wings and blizzards probably has something to do with the weight gain, but...well, I have no excuse. Piggy needs to lose some pounds. Ironically, this stage hit me at just about the same time last year. What is it about August that beats down my self esteem? Surely it's no coincidence that I just gain more weight in the summer...there must be something about August that makes me feel blimpish. Perhaps it's having put up with cute, skinny gals bouncing around in their itty bitty summer clothing for three months and realizing I have another two months before long sleeve shirts are accepted again.

Damn it, I want a hamburger. And I don't even LIKE hamburgers.