The Nail Files: I'm In A Chic Clown Posse

Sally Hansen White On, China Glaze Man Hunt and Flip Flop Fantasy

Two coats of White On and Flip Flop Fantasy and one coat of Man Hunt. 

While letting it dry, I got my dotting tool out and put big drops of White On and Flip Flop Fantasy on the back of a crumpled up receipt I found at the bottom of my purse a piece of paper to dip my dotting tool in. I've learned that it's way better to do the dotting when the base colour is wet because it kind of absorbs the dot and then dries smoothly. So, after the first coat of Man Hunt was dry, I added another coat and then dotted away. 

The combo of colours makes me feel like I'm a clown from a chic circus. You know, one where I'd have a tiny umbrella and frilly socks but still arrive with eight other clowns in SmartCar. And instead of a water-squirting flower, I'd have one that shoots confetti...GLITTER confetti...glitter RAINBOW confetti! Oh yes, this is the kind of circus I could really posse-up with. Haha!

Thanks to Tara and Vicki for hosting!


I Guess Pickle Really Is A Terrier, After All

Before they were toted around in leather handbags and donned with fancy bows, Yorkshire Terriers were predominantly bred to be "ratters." Their small size and sense of smell made them the premier rat-killing choice back in the day, and the breeder we got Pickle from told us that he would be a "tracker by nature" and that we would have to take extra time to get him to walk properly on a leash because his instinct would be to keep his nose to the ground and follow whatever trail he could catch.

Here's the deal though, Pickle is pretty much the worst smeller...well...ever. Unless it's DIRECTLY in front of him, Pickle doesn't see it. Okay, to be fair, sometimes he looks like he's smelling things but only after years of watching Pepi - the tracker extraordinaire of our family (although there's a good chance that Pickle's just learned to fake it). This weekend, though, only months before Pickle's sixth birthday, he finally proved the breeder right. 

We're in the middle of our Happypants Renovation, which means that there's a whole lot of crap on our front lawn. Piles of wood, scaffolding, roof shingles, siding - a whooooole lotta crap. Saturday morning, we let the boys out for their morning bathroom break. Normally, they do their business quickly because they get their breakfast when they come back inside.

When I heard scratching on the door, though, it was only Pepi. I called Pickle but he didn't come. Fearing that he had been eaten by a fox (which I worry about constantly), I put on some sandals to investigate. 

When I found him, I had no choice but to go back inside and get my camera because he was freaking the eff out.

Pickle, whining while staring at a box full of soffit.

Pepi came back with me but really didn't understand what all the fuss was about, which made me think that Pickle was losing his mind for no reason. 

He shoved his nose right against the box, moving slowly but surely from one end to the other. It was really funny to watch. 

Keep in mind that the entire time I was outside, I didn't hear or see anything.

This is when I got The Remix.

I got started on breakfast while The Remix took over. Then he came back inside.

"There really is something in there! Don't let the dogs out!" he said just before slamming the door.

Pickle wasn't impressed.

A few minutes later, The Remix came to get me.

Back by the box, he pointed to an empty planter we had in our backyard and this is what I saw:
The Remix had turned over the box and found a nest, which he dumped into the planter because "there wasn't a mother but she'd be back soon" and The Remix wanted to keep them safe. 

Side Note: Whenever he does something like this, my heart swells. How can it not?

So, to make sure that the baby mice could find their mother, he tipped the planter on it's side so they could run out when she came back. 

After The Remix's Save The Field Mice Project, we had breakfast. The whole time, Pickle was scratching at the door and the second we let him out, he ran for the box. The mice were gone but that didn't stop Pickle from smelling, whining, and digging against it.

And for the next two days, that's all he did. Seriously! Even now, the box is gone but he's still in the same spot...sniffing. 

Nature: 1, Nurture: 0


The Nail Files: A Mermaid at Wimbledon

China Glaze Celtic Sun and Turned Up Turquoise, ORLY Sashay My Way and Mermaid Tale.

Two coats of...well...everything! Haha!

I just can't get enough of the neons. Even though they streak like crazy and sometimes take three coats, I don't care! They're my favourite AND I LOVE THEM! And Celtic Sun isn't an exception, except I would have called it: Tennis Anyone? because it's the exact same colour as a tennis ball.

The ORLY sparkles were marked down at Sally's and I'm SO HAPPY that I splurged and bought these two. 

Sashay My Way is the best gold sparkle of life because it has THREE different kinds! Half of the circles are plain while the other half have holographic stripes and man, do they ever shine when the light hits them. And having the narrow strips give the polish even more dimension. Plus, it's called SASHAY MY WAY.


And don't even get me started on Mermaid Tale. If I could coat my house in it, I would.

Happy Friday, everyone!

Thanks to Tara and Vicki for hosting!

Book Club Friday: Misery Loves Cabernet

My review for this week is for a book that was an impulse purchase. My to-read pile is teetering next to the couch and threatening to crush me considerable but, as we all know, I can't resist a good pun. So, really...I didn't have much of a choice. 

Misery Loves Cabernet

Sweeping Declaration: this book was freaking awesome.

And here's why:

The MC's name is Charlize "Charlie" Edwards and she works as a personal assistant to one of Hollywood's ranking leading men. Yes, it is a story that's been told a hundred times but that doesn't matter one little bit because this book tells it way better. Like in a, what-kind-of-food-do-hippos-eat-because-one-is-being-delivered-to-my-house-and-I-think-it-will-be-hungry, kind of better. 

Then there's the off-the-wall drama with Charlie's parents but I'm NOT going to get into detail about that because even a little hint could end up being a spoiler and I don't share spoilers. Rest assured, though, it's a freaking awesome side-story. 


Oh man, is it EVER an awesome side-story. 

And speaking of awesome, there's also the book that Charlie, herself, is writing: a collection of very funny lines that are supposed to offer life-advice to Charlie's future great-grand-daughter. They appear throughout the entire book, and are placed at just the right moment for full comedic impact. 

Some are sound examples of age-old wisdom:

There's nothing wrong with silence. Don't always race to fill up the silence with words.


When you're heading down the wrong path, there are usually lots of signs warning you along the way. Be intelligent. Pay attention to the signs.

While others nearly made me spit out my tea:

Don't do shots at the beginning of a party unless you want to wake up the next morning wondering where your panties are, and the name of the guy on top of you.


Men are fuckers who just want to mess with your head.

When I read that Ms. Gruenenfelder has experience screenwriting, I wasn't surprised because her comedic timing is bang-on and Misery Love Cabernet just might be one of the rare books I read again because there's a good chance that I didn't catch everything the first time around.  

So, if you haven't guessed it already, I'm giving Misery Loves Cabernet
read this right now 

Well...what are you waiting for? Get to it!

Thanks to Heather and Katie for hosting!


First Impressions: Yes, They Really Do Last Forever

WARNING: Mum, you're going to want to skip this post. Just pretend it doesn't exist and move on. Baby Jamie, the same goes for you too. In fact, let's just say that if you don't want to know about my sex life with The Remix, you should just close the window and get on with your day. There's nothing graphic, obviously, but still, Imma talking 'bout sex. Proceed at your own risk.

Now let's get down, shall we? 

Side Note: I'm hilarious. 

I'm finishing up the revisions on my latest manuscript, which means that I've started thinking about my query letter. For those who don't know, a query letter is essentially a page-long application an author sends to an agent in hopes of getting representation. To be fair, the query process is far more complicated but for the purpose of this post, I'm talking just about the letter.

Anyway, the older-school of thought was that if you were an unpublished author, then you didn't put much in your bio, which is a few sentences at the bottom of the query letter. But with access to social media now, even unpublished authors can have an online presence and agents want to know about that. I've even read of agents being ho-hum about an author and then getting super psyched about them after discovering their bog or Twitter account, which makes sense because an agent can feel like they're meeting you, in a sense. As such, not only is it important to have a social media presence, but it needs to be a good one because it's now serving as your first impression. And during our Happypants Reunion Tour last week, I was reminded yet again why first impressions are so darn important. No matter what you do afterwards, nothing can completely erase that first impression.


Okay, on with the story:

It was late 2005 and The Remix and I have been dating for about four months. The Remix was doing some side-work for a friend (The Remix is an electrician. Yes, I'm a lucky lady) who was remodelling a rental house and asked The Remix to install some pot lights (the never-ending story of his life. Poor Remix) and I, being a wonderful girlfriend, offered to help.

Well, let's just say that watching him stand on a ladder, with his massive forearms straining with the effort of sawing through a piece of drywall while the hem of his t-shirt snuck up past the top of his jeans revealing a flat stomach -- I could barely contain myself (which was ridiculous because I was already Ms. Handsy-Mc-Gee with him -- an anomaly from all of my previous relationships). 

Yadda, yadda, yadda...a little while later we were three-quarters naked and doing it in one of the upstairs bedrooms. And it was awesome. Spontaneous, kind of kinky, and destined to be mutually unsatisfying due to our similar heights and refusal to put anything but our shoes on the dirty plywood floor -- just what sex in a construction site should be like.

Just as we were realizing that things...well...weren't going to happen, there was a noise at the front of the house.

"Remix?" a voice called out.

We both froze.

"Hello?" the voice called out, again.

The Remix:

Me (still in the bedroom):
I mean, no harm done, right? It was probably the dude that owns this house and he's giving The Remix a high-five in the driveway for having such a cool girlfriend. Yes indeed, this will be a funny story for years to come. 

Then, The Remix came inside.

"Jennie?" he called out.

"Yeah," I said, walking to the stairs so he could see me. "Who was it?"

"Um...it was my dad."

"No it wasn't. You're just being silly. Seriously, who was it?" I said.

"My dad. I forgot that he was supposed to meet me here to help."

"Shut up. You're lying," I said, when what I really wanted to scream was:

"I'm not lying. It was really him," The Remix replied.

"So the first time he almost meets me is when he catches us having sex in this dirty place? Is he going to tell your Mom? We may have to break up. Fuck. Wait, that's what got us in this mess in the first place. Is he mad?"

"Not really."

"What do you mean?"

"Well after I told him what happened, he paused for a second and then told me to "get back inside and finish what I started."

Then we had a good laugh at Papa Remix's quip, gathered up The Remix's tools (ha) and decided to get something to eat.

When we arrived back at The Remix's house, my future B-I-L took one look at us and did this:

Miley - Point and Laugh

It didn't take long for us to figure out that Papa Remix had called my future B-I-L seconds after leaving the construction house, which meant that it was only a matter of time before The Remix's entire family heard about it.

Leaving me thinking this:

I'll get into what happened the first time I formally met my future in-laws at another time but the end of the story is they loved me. Well, maybe it wasn't love-at-first-meet but they weren't fans of The Remix's previous girlfriend and apparently being adventurous enough to have sex in strange places made me an improvement (an unexpected silver lining).

A few weeks after that, it looked like The Remix and I were getting serious so he invited me to his family's Christmas Open House, which was hosted by one of The Remix's ten aunts and uncles. Yes, Mama Remix is the eldest of ten children. So this wasn't some small party, there were close to eighty people there.

And let me tell you, did I get some looks from a few members of the fam. Nothing was said outright but almost every uncle made the similar crack of "Hey, The Remix looks to be in good shape. Guess we have you to thank for that," which was kind of funny. The first time, anyway. 

So now it's 2012 and we're visiting The Remix's family during our Happypants Reunion Tour.

Keep in mind that the story I just told you happened seven years ago

We were Chez Remix, catching up with Mama and Papa Remix as well as grandparents from both sides, when an uncle unexpectedly dropped in.

And what was the first thing he said to me after not seeing us for three years?

"The Remix is looking good. Keeping him in shape, aren't you?"

Because what else is there really to do? Plus it is funny. If it happened to someone else, I'd be doing the same thing.

So that, dear readers, was my reminder on why first impressions are important.

And if you're an author who's looking for an agent, it's super-mega-├╝ber important because, as the lovely Linda Epstein so eloquently puts it in her post on Top Ten Things You Can Do To Get A Literary Agent:

10. Don't be douchy on social media; agents do look at your blog, website, Twitter, Facebook, ect...Nobody wants to work with douchy people. (Well, I don't.)

So keep that in mind before you post that piece about how the agents who've rejected you wouldn't know a good book if it stabbed them in the thigh. Even if you think it's true, and you try to be funny about it, it comes across as douchy. I'm not pointing any fingers but there are more than one of you out there *stares* so take a look at your archives and figure out if anything in there could come across as douchy. Everyone has their venting moments, which are fine, but it's important to remember that what you put out there can haunt you for years to come. 

Just like I'll forever be known to The Remix's extended family as: The Girl Who Had Sex In A Construction Site.



HPRT2012: Lesbians Do It Better

Here's the deal: I've been to a lot of weddings. Not like Katherine Heigl in 27 Dresses, or anything, but enough to feel comfortable in making the following sweeping declaration:



Because when there are two women involved, shit gets done.

Let me explain. A week ago (plus one day), The Remix and I were gearing up for the featured event of our Happypants Reunion Tour (aka, our visit to Toronto): 

The McKLove wedding. 


Yes, people, you read that right. When you combine their last names, it makes McKLove. If that isn't a meant-to-be-sign, I don't know what is

But that's really this-couple specific. Not every lesbian couple can combine their last names into the killer hybrid that is McKLove. So are you ready to read all the reasons why lesbians are way better at throwing weddings?

Then let's get going!

(Slight Disclaimer: All I had was my camera phone so these aren't the best pictures. You still get it, though, so it's cool.)

*bangs gong*

First off, there were chalkboards everywhere with cute personalized touches. The super-adorable McKLove guestbook had everyone photographed while holding small framed chalkboards with a wish or a thought for The McKLoves. Then the photo was printed out and inserted in the guest book where you could write a note next to it. Amazing.

However, I don't have any pictures of that because I was too busy doing this:
The very second I saw Lo and Liza, which is when we pulled up to the venue, I started to cry. For the rest of the evening, I was that gal - the one who would.not.stop.crying. It was ridiculous but that's the kind of vibe the night had; their love was literally overwhelming and I couldn't control myself. 

(For those who I didn't meet personally, I'm sure you know who I am now and you were right to stay away. Even The Remix wanted to ditch me at one point and he's bound to me by law, so I don't blame you one bit. If we have the chance to meet again, I promise to be considerably less sobby. Moving on.)

Anyway, back to the amazing chalkboards. There was also this one: 

The venue was bananas:
Open kitchen, fabulous red brick walls, enormous half-moon windows, sky-high ceilings and some of the friendliest staff I've had the pleasure of meeting. 

The ceremony took place in front of a huge window, in a small section of the venue that overlooked the downtown St. Lawrence Market.

From the construction wall up, it was beautiful view. And to be fair, you really didn't see the wall until you were right next to the window and who the heck stands right next to a window, looking down during a wedding ceremony? Okay, enough about the wall.

When the music started to play, all eyes turned to see Lo, in all of her radiant beauty, walking towards her teary-eyed future wife.

And, as I stated earlier, I was too busy doing this to take any pictures of that.

After Lo arrived at the front, the music was turned off and the ceremony officially began.

Then Lo and Liza did this:
I didn't actually get to touch it because I was an hysterical disaster sitting outside the defined area but I got a good look at it and sent the rings all of the loving vibes I could. 

Then, Lo and Liza took turns sharing the reasons they McKLove one another and how their lives had changed since meeting and falling in love.

While I did this:

(Lo asked if they could kiss after this part, which was extra-mega-touching and, frankly, didn't help in controlling my weeping. She's selfish, that Lo McKLove - haha!)

Then they exchanged their vows.

 While I did this:

Thankfully, the ceremony was over quickly after they exchanged rings. Which was good, because I was exhausted...and dehydrated. And just to be clear I have

never, ever, ever

cried like this at a wedding before (including my own, which The Remix couldn't help but point out - sorry, babe). I mean, I'm no ice queen but this was unlike anything I'd experienced before. There was just something about the The McKLoves that left me unable to do anything else. 

I mean, look at them!
I added the flying hearts to represent the bubble of love they exuded. As you can see, it spread out pretty far.

After everything was signed, sealed and delivered (so-to-speak), the party got started, which is when The McKLoves showed their true wedding-design flair.

The food was crazy. I have no idea what we ate, but it was all delicious.

Pasta in a very cool slanty bowl.

Meat, more meat, salad, tortilla-like-thingies, dip for tortilla-like-thingies, and a bun.

Instead of a wedding cake, The McKLoves had cupcakes. And instead of one flavour, they had TWO!

And instead of having one feature drink, they had TWO!

Lo's was a mojito (my watermark blocks it here. Whoops!) Also, please note the chalkboard sign.

At 10:00pm, they brought out the dessert. And it wasn't any old dessert. Oh no! This was an all-you-can-stuff-your-face-with S'MORES BUFFET!

(I know, right? It was insane!)

And in between stuffing our faces with s'mores and midnight sliders, there was a whole lot of this:

Fairly accurate demonstration of my skills, although I was dressed better.

So, basically, the McKLove-fest wedding was one of the most wonderful weddings I've had the honour of attending. The vibe was so awesome, I wanted to jar it. And speaking of jars, if you're still not convinced that lesbians throw a better wedding, take a look at yet another example of how they worked their Market theme:

There were also mason jars with tea-lights decorating the entire venue. They were, like, everywhere.

I rest my case.

*bangs gavel*

So if you live in the GTA and want to throw a lesbian-level wedding, here are the venders/services The McKLoves used for their special day:

Berkeley Events - Liz & Trevor (with fabulous staff)

Market Kitchen - Gabrielle

paper & poste - Beckee

DJ LYNZ - Lindsey Pallister

Oh, and if you remember, I had a slight dress emergency in the weeks before this wedding. Here's what I ended up pulling together:
Cute, cool and coordinated. And I'm not just describing The Remix.

Thank you so much for including us in your day, McKLoves! We're so happy that we were able to celebrate with you! Much McKLove to you both and we hope you're enjoying your lakeside Homo-Moon! (Do I really need to mention how much I McKLove that? Nicely, done Liza. Nicely done). 


The Nail Files: In Love With A Flip-Flop (Wearing) Mermaid

The Nail Files Link Up

China Glaze Turned Up Turquoise, ORLY Mermaid Tale, China Glaze Flip Flop Fantasy, Sally Girl In Love.

Two coats of Turned Up Turquoise and then one coat of Mermaid Tale on the top two thirds. On the feature finger: Two coats of Flip Flop Fantasy and then a coat of In Love on the top two thirds.

Okay, so this picture really doesn't capture how bright Flip Flop Fantasy is but, let me tell you, it's incredibly bright, while staying a true pink! (insert sigh of happiness) I couldn't find Flip Flop Fantasy for the longest time and now that I have it, I see why it's been sold-out forever. It's amazing!!

 However, I HAD to include this picture because of the amazing sparkle! The In Love glitter caught the sun just before it went behind (yet another) raincloud. In all the pictures I've taken of my nails outside, it's has never happened before. 

Oh, and Mermaid Tale is a freaking stunning mix of blue, teal and green sparkles. It looked awesome in the bottle but even better on my nails. 

All in all - it was a great nail week!

Thanks to Tara and Vicki for hosting!

Book Club Friday: Let's Pretend This Never Happened

One of the awesome things about being on vacation (because being on vacation isn't awesome enough) is having the time to read. For our trip to Toronto last week, we had two flights there and two flights back and that, my friends, was enough time for me to read two books! AND start a third! YAY!

So, without further ado, I humbly present this for my weekly review: 

Lots of people have read it but when a good friend of mine (who has a very similar sense of humour) INSISTED that I read it IMMEDIATELY because she NEEDED to talk to me about it, I put it at the top of my vacation to-read-list.

And let me tell you, book clubbers, I owe that friend a box of cookies because this book IS THE GREATEST MEMOIR OF ALL TIME.

No, I'm not exaggerating.

Let's get something straight, right off the bat: Jenny Lawson may be the funniest person on the planet. In fact, she's so funny that there should really be a disclaimer on the cover.

Warning: Contents may will probably cause you to pee your pants. Do not read in public unless wearing Depends.

But that's what happens when an author grows up with a taxidermist father in a place called Wall, Texas. 

Don't believe me that her "mostly true memoir" is really *that* funny? Well, when I first started reading it, I was in bed with The Remix and after only half an hour, I had to stop.


Because I was laughing so hard that the bed was shaking and The Remix thought that we'd somehow been transported to a seedy motel and I'd smuggled in a handful of quarters for the vibrating machine. Not that I could blame him because, as hard as I tried, I just couldn't contain myself. It was like my body HAD to release a knee-slapping, tear-bursting laugh or I would EXPLODE. 

And to answer your next question, no, laughing into a pillowcase didn't help. 

Plus, all of her stories are (mostly) true! Rather than butcher her explanation on why she chose to include the "mostly," part, I'll let Ms. Lawson explain it, herself:

This book is totally true, except for the parts that aren't. It's basically like Little House on the Prairie but with more cursing. And I know, you're thinking, "But Little House on the Prairie was totally true!" and no, I'm sorry, but it wasn't. Laura Ingalls was a compulsive liar with no fact-checker, and probably if she was still alive today her mom would be saying, "I don't know how Laura came up with this whole 'I'm-a-small-girl-on-the-prairie' story. We lived in New Jersey with her aunt Frieda and our dog, Mary, who was blinded when Laura tried to bleach a lightning bold on her forehead. I have no idea where she got the 'and we lived in a dugout' thing, although we did take her to Carlsbad Caverns once."

And that's why I'm better than Laura Ingalls. Because my story is ninety percent accurate, and I really did live in a dugout.** The reason this memoir is only mostly true instead of totally true is that I relish not getting sued. Also, I want my family to be able to say, "Oh that never happened. Of course we never actually tossed her out of a moving car when she was eight. That's one of those crazy things that isn't quite the truth." (And they're right, because the truth is that I was nine...)

** I actually never lived in a dugout. But I did totally go to Carlsbad Caverns once.

Yup - the ENTIRE book is JUST LIKE that!! I SWEAR!!

Also, if you didn't laugh at least once during that excerpt, I'm not sure that we can we friends. We'd probably hate each other. It's best to just nod our heads politely and part ways. Like, right now.

I can't tell you my favourite part because that would pretty much involve quoting the entire 318 pages and that would be ridiculous (and a copyright infringement, probably) but with chapter titles like: And That's Why Neil Patrick Harris Would Be the Most Successful Mass Murderer Ever, Just to Clarify: We Don't Sleep with Goats and Jenkins, You Motherfucker, I'm sure you can see why it's impossible for me to choose just one.

What's really wonderful about Let's Pretend This Never Happened is that it is a memoir. As such, the chapters are mostly stand-alone so if you're not a huge reader, you can read a chapter and then put it down. Not that you'll actually want to put it down but you can, if you want to (you won't). So if you have a casual reader in your house, this just may be the book to get them back in the saddle.

Plus, she loves the word "fuck," a lot. She's a gal after my own heart, that Jenny Lawson.

Look, there's a reason that this book has been on the NYT Bestsellers List for a thousand years. And that reason is because it is awesomely-awesome!  

So get this book and read it right now

But please remember what I said about the mandatory physical expression of laughter - if you hold it in, or try to control yourself, you'll probably pop a lung or something. 

Just let it out, people! Let the laughter out!

And then send me an email so we can chat about Chapter 3: Stanley, the Magical Talking Squirrel

Thanks to Heather and Katie for hosting!


HPRT2012 Recap: Late-Night Lightning Show

After a whirlwind trip back to Toronto, we're back. If you follow me on Twitter, I was tweeting our adventures under the hashtag #HPRT2012, which stands for Happypants Reunion Tour 2012. Instead of photo dumping, I'm going to split up the pictures into a few posts. Not only will this keep me somewhat sane (because I took many pictures) but it will give me time to put together a fitting post about the wedding we went to. Yes, it was that awesome. 

We stayed with my brother, Baby Jamie, in his pimped out downtown condo. Let me be clear. His condo is legit. It's  a two bedroom, two-story place with a phenomenal view of the northern city skyline. Truth be told, I didn't take one darn picture of the inside of his condo because we spent most of our time on the balcony.

Can you blame me for wanting to sit outside? You can see FOREVER! Well, not to the Northwest Territories but you get my drift. 

After an epic night on the Urban Patio (read: my friends' backyard but Urban Patio sounds way chic-er and also like a place you'd want to get on the VIP list for, but you can't - it's invite only and we made the cut *snaps*) The Remix, Me, and Baby Jamie headed back to his place. 

The second we got inside, we were all ravenous. Luckily, Baby Jamie's 9th story balcony has a natural gas line and a BBQ. Like I said, it's a pimped out palace. It had been threatening to rain all night - and did, a few times - but when we got outside, the storm had moved east. The lightning, though, lit up the sky like something out of War of the Worlds (minus the alien invaders, obviously) and I declared that I wanted to take some pictures. 

Baby Jamie: Here, let me help you set up the camera. 

Me: I don't need your help. I'm fine.

Baby Jamie: Seriously. That's a really expensive camera and you've had a lot to drink. Just let me set it up for you.

Me, full of drunken outrage: Don't talk to me like that, Baby Jamie. I'm fine. I'm not that drunk. I'm gonna go get my camera by myself and it's going to be awesome.

Then, while still lecturing him on the inappropriateness of his suggestion, and just before I got to the bag, this happened: 

Me, after peeling myself off the floor: Right. Maybe you have a point. Please take care of it. Also, do you have cheese for those burgers?

So Baby Jamie came to the rescue and not only saved me from dropping my mega expensive camera but he also set up his tripod so all I had to do was push the button whenever I saw a flash. 

Obviously, my non-sobriety put a slight hinderance on my reflex skills but after one kajillion tries, I managed to get a few good ones. 

All in all, it was an awesome ending to a fantastic night. 

And the burgers were freaking delicious.