With A Bunch of Exclamation Marks

I had a great time in Chicago. It's a growing trend, what can I say. My mind and body are kinda shot right now, so there will be no five page play-by-play or other blogging heroics, but yeah, I'm very glad I went. I got to see Heather and the cousins (which continue migrating there at an alarming rate) and Anna and Max all while mucking around with three of the fiercest hooligans this side of Guy Richie flick. Throw the Toaster in there and we form some sort of alcoholic Voltron that is powered by bourbon and cheap hookers and communicates in Adult Swim references and recycled diction from high school science textbooks. Oh and cussing. Lots of cussing.

Actually, that kind of sounds like the lamest creature alive. Oh well. To be near or a part of this creature is to experience an intoxicating dynamic of warmth, humor, and smellyness of four of the best people I know.

But yeah, highlights included hilarity, hilarity, booze, mooses, shivering, and an outlet-powered mass grave named Guiseppe.

The explanation for that last bit is pretty simple. Guiseppe is Heather's computer. And Heather, in a drunken rage, murdered hundreds of my emails. She came home (drunk), sat down (drunk) and saw (drunk) a gmail screen (logged in as "walline") on Guiseppe's face, became horrified (drunk) at all the email she didn't recognize (drunk), decided (drunk) that these alien emails were a threat to life as she knew it, and concluded (drunk) that the only reasonable course of action was to delete them (drunk) as quickly as possible. She even shouted (drunk) as she was frantically destroying my internet identity that the names on the emails were "all Brian's friends!" This confusing development only sharpened her resolve (drunk), and as gmail asked her if she wanted to delete the two hundred innocent emails F O R E V E R, she could only blurt, "YES! Please yes, delete them forever!"

And so there you have it. Heather Costello deleted every single email I ever received in 2006. FOREVER. If Kyle hadn't stepped in and told her what she was doing she probably would have deleted them all. Sigh :)

In any case, this led to the establishment of "stupid dept" and the agreement that I am now fairly deep in said stupid-debt. That is to say, I owe Heather some stupid. Which is good, because let's face it, when you're associated with Brian Walline, as I happen to be, stupid happens.

See what I mean?

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