I have weird friends.

I am screeching in with thirty-five minutes to go in order to keep my "I'm going to blog every day this week" resolution (we're not counting Memorial Day, obviously). My excuse is that I keep odd hours anyways, so blogging at 11:25 is normal and therefore totally counts.


Yes.

Last night Ricky and I both went to bed at the same time and at a reasonably decent hour, which is an extremely rare occasion in our household. The victory was short-lived, however, when we were awoken abruptly by the sound of someone shooting a gun into our bedroom window. And by "shooting a gun" I mean "throwing eggs really hard". However, in my groggy state all I could discern was "I think I just heard a loud noise and WHAT THE HELL RICKY JUST DOVE ONTO THE GROUND OH MY GOD I SHOULD DO THAT TOO OH MY GOD OH MY GOD WE ARE GOING TO DIE.

I poked my head up two seconds later, cowering on the floor on my side of the bed, to find Ricky yelling out the window to our dear, laughing friends, Jo and Chris.

They look really innocent here, but you shouldn't be fooled.

Anyways, we let them in. They brought us beer. And we proceeded to, at three in the morning, stay up talking about nothing and everything (mostly in reference to pooping). 

It's times like this that I'm glad I'm young and free of major responsibilities and living in the city.

I'm happy.

I'm not happy I have egg to clean off of our windows.