I want to give a huge thanks to Michele, Mari and Marilyn for throwing us this awesome party. Sadly, unbeknownst to them and me was that a good chunk of the invitees (including my sister) had already made plans (with tickets) to see the English Beat in LA that same night. When Andy and I first walked into the Harp there were balloons covering most sections of the pub. I went out to the girls on the patio and said, “I think we seriously overestimated how many people were actually coming tonight.” All in all, I think we had about 20 people (who probably all went into a cholesterol filled shock after all the fried food) and it was a great group and it turned out to be a really good time. I also got some awesome gifts.
Some pictures from the evening:
I'm so stoked that someone got baby Henry a PGA Tour video game. How else is he going to learn his 8 iron from his 6 iron?
Andrea, Michele, myself and Mari. Bunny ears supplied by Andrea's son, Oliver. Sure, I could have cropped the ears out, by why? Totally makes the photo.
Patrick, Brendon and Gunter letting me know exactly how they feel about attending traditional baby showers.
I totally commend Andrea for her attempt at photo bombing this picture. It would have been better if she had one of those horrible orange tans or a random tassel, but this will have to do.
No, I'm not strangling the giraffe. Sadly, this is how I hold most things - Homer Simpson style.
Andy, with beer, trying on Henry's new clothes.
Spot the sober person! I actually yelled at Andy for ruining this photo but on reflection, I think my obvious sobriety is what kills it.
I will say that as the sole pregnant lady at the pub, I was really jealous as I slowly watched all my friends get hammered. Then again, I also had a good time watching them get hammered as there is nothing quite like fucking with a drunk person, albeit kindly since they were, after all, my friends. I don’t reserve the same restraint for strangers.
In a couple weeks, we’ll be having another baby shower\going away party at my parents’ house in Wisconsin. I’m sure it will be more of the traditional type of shower where I won’t get to feel smug, or eat my weight in fried food or get to watch my relatives get smashed (well, not most of them anyhow). I probably won’t blog about that one either. I will, I assume, be blogging about watching our beloved Packers play in the Super Bowl from a stool at Champion’s - my old home pub.