The Truth About Cats and Dogs in Black and White

Jill Day observed as you have seen was a riot. I had been waiting for more pics from Georgestreet but decided to post without, since at 30 I may not remember the details much longer.

Jill Day began with pizza as every good day should. Pizza and good friends, my best friends minus 3. My seasell was here for the weekend, her first trip to Newfoundland and she brought 3 generations of Sanfords with her to celebrate her first Mother's Day, of course she was a little hung over for it and I may or may not have fallen asleep during Mother's Day dinner.

Back to the party. Who knew that back at Acadia the twins has walked seashell and I home. And who knew that I could be so unruly that I was flung over one of their backs and delivered to my residence? Who knew? Seashell knew! So there were stories. and dip. and oodles of sangria. and bottles of Masi Soave. and a screech in. Yes there were bad accents, cod kissing, and screech shooting. And there was laughing, some at, some with. So much that cheeks were hurting and abs were cramping. I should add that it is a miracle anyone found the party as I totally sent invites with the wrong freakin address - dummy.

Then we were transported to visit George. Georgestreet is the oldest, longest, street of bars in North America and definitely the "funnest" party on any given night. I counted once...72 pubs, clubs, dives, and bars on one cobblestone street. We began at "Lotties," the unofficial off-campus bar and the "home of the white Russian" where we learned a secret about the WRs that can not be divulged. We were not there long....well it didn't seem long, enough for two WRs and a couple dances. Then it was off to the Scumdance...I mean Sundance, the meat market of all meat markets but at least it was appropriately aged. And miraculously I only saw one ex - a new minimum record.

I was counting on getting id'd at the Sundance, but alas i made it through my first birthday without being carded. I figure 30 years was a good run. You can, however, always count on meeting old friends, old acquaintances and new acquaintances at the Sundance. And she held true. There were old acquaintances on the dance floor and pictures to prove it - coming later. There were also new french acquaintances. I'm freaking bilingual! Who knew? Oh yes, I chatted my little heart out. Even had them joining us for afterhours. But then gears changed again.

On our after closing time stroll down George (now 3:30 am) we were heckled by some young gentleman. The girls flanking either side of me were quick to say "we're married." To which I replied "hey thanks for helping a single girl out." Next thing were are walking linked arms on our way to an afterhours at Junctions. I mean have I not learned my lesson about 20 year olds? Anyway, along our travels to Junctions we ran into some recent acquaintances. The girls chatted and the young'uns decided they were not impressed with my married friends who were trying to pick up. To which I chuckled loudly. There are not two more happily married that I can think of. So I said, "you moron (without the moron remark) she is married to my brother!" Obviously youth still has him believing that the only reason to go DT is to get laid. So which ditched the young'uns and opt'ed for the more mature recent acquaintances.

We made it home, safe and sound at around 5am.