On the off-chance that our trip to New York and the fourteen million pounds of pizza we consumed there were not QUITE enough to sufficiently celebrate Jason's birthday, we continued the birthday blowout extravagaaaaahnza with a bus trip to the always gorgeous Virgina wine country on Saturday.
It was awesome. One person puked on the bus on the way home and another fell out of her seat and into the aisle and still did not wake up. Meanwhile I was engaged in a high-level discussion about racial profiling with a nice young man whose family bought his ticket for Father's Day but did not accompany him. He assured me he actually preferred it that way, and also, NO, the fact that he, Jason and I were relatively sober after consuming just as much wine as Ol' Pukey and Ol'FallOuty McDrunkAss over there was NOT a sign of serious alcoholism, it was a sign that I needed to pass him a damn plastic cup, he was opening another bottle.
Also: I learned how to open a bottle of bubbly with a sword, people. A fucking SWORD.
Yes, I biffed it the first time, which made the wine foam when I tried again, but the cork landed in the hat I was aiming for, so: 1,000,000 FREESTYLE POINTS! RADICAL TUBULARNESS. YOU HAVE ACHIEVED DRINKING NINJA STATUS.
The trick also works with a chef's knife, as I demonstrated last night in our backyard because I cannot get enough of my new stupid human trick.
This could get expensive, and also somebody is probably going to lose an eye.
(Noah had yet another nice day with Grandma and Grandpa. They worked on painting Noah's Room Take 2, Big Boy Edition, Now With 100% Less Bunny Rabbits and 100% More Breaking of Mama's Heart.)