Oh. My. God.
Still processing everything. There is much I need to tell you and even more I can't. I'm still a little buzzed here at 11am the next day. Through my drunken haze I distinctly remember not two, not three, but FOUR hot chicks making out while Crystal Roxx rocked the Tyler James Pub. Al Can't Hang was rocking out on his birthday (but he mysteriously disappeared for while), Drizz was crushing forearms in the back (mine still hurts - where the frack does an accountant get that much power?!), skillets were eaten (oh yes they were! Best quote of the Bash, "I wanna have sex with my skillet), and Pub Olympics #1 is in the books. For the record, I was the Tiger Woods of my team, at least if you are talking about his performance in the Ryder Cup. I was 0 for 2 in my events. Bobby actually gave us a chance in the darts competition, but he was up against Budder Carson who is also the Ontario dart champ. We still finished it out with the car bomb relay. Despite Otis and Bike Mike's sub 2 second gulp and slams, we couldn't pull it out in this event either. Yet somehow we all won.
Just by being here.