So my almost Mississippi BFF and his family of 6000 (okay, six total but criminy it seemed like a lot of people) visited our humble abode on Saturday upon our invitation. This was done, mind you, because he had brought back my husband's beloved Fat Tire beer from Little Rock (where they were reaquainted a few months back) and we needed to get it from them.
We're damn classy here, aren't we?
And so, we cleaned, we cooked, and we emptied our beer refrigerator in preparation for their arrival. And aside from a few awkward moments at the beginning, it really was quite enjoyable.
Beer with a side of damn fine homemade spaghetti and chicken meatballs tends to have that effect on people.
And aside from the awkward sort-of-drunken waist grab and tug (you know those, right?) by my almost Mississippi BFF, the strawberry popsicle stains on our carpet, and the fresh scent of preschooler wizz on our new couch courtesy of their kiddo who gets enthralled with the television, doesn't feel like getting up to use the bathroom, and then pees, it was actually quite a successful visit.
Mainly because not only are we stocked with really good beer (which I shall soon be able to consume in large quantities), but my husband is pretty much convinced that a vasectomy is the way to go.