We're setting the time machine to November. (Begin squiggly lines for memory scene)
The new apartment was appropriately house-warmed in its beginning weeks with lots of cooking & dinners & gatherings, my favorite being a Fat Tire sleepover where we had a home-made Twister board!
Oh, Twister. I had forgotten how much I love you. When else is this okay during a group gathering?
Butts were just in the air, everywhere, at all times, anywhere you looked.
And that, my friends, is amazing.
There is no other time in life when I have any reason to have my face smashed upside down against the leg of a coworker. Or no other time that two guys should be doing matching duo lunges...
But it works here! And it makes sense. And it's necessary. And we applaud it. Twister breaks social boundaries and makes it normal. Thanks, Twister.
Pajamas were a strict requirement at the sleepover (unless you were coming straight from working Night Bike), and we ate popcorn by the bowl-full (I did, anyway), read magazines, danced to Regulator in the kitchen (a few times), made brownies, had a big pallet on the floor, and watched a scary movie.
We had all intentions of cooking a big breakfast in the morning for everyone, but I didn't factor in staying up until 4am, so when it came time to wake up and cook, you better believe I just laid on the floor sleeping while people got up one by one to leave for work (at 8am, ugh!). So then I had 3 cartons of OJ, way too much bacon, and 4 dozen eggs to myself. I ate omelettes three times a day and egged all my neighbors.
Make a Twister board. Buy some popcorn. Have a sleepover. There's a reason we did it all the time in middle school. If you're crammed into a tiny apartment, all the better.
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