First Foam Fest sounds Fabulous.
As a committed fan of all things Confluence, you know I support you and your endeavors with all my heart, even if those endeavors while, good intentioned, are a bit, shall we say, half-baked. Whoa, did I say that out loud?
I recall my days in Boston where each New Year's day hundreds of insane folks [most likely your long lost kin] got together with the "L-Street Brownies" in Southie and hopped in the cool Atlantic for a refreshing thirty-degree swim. No wet suits. Just raw brain power. Lovely thing.
New Year's eve, while totally appropriate for some yak fun, may be a tough one. I seem to have prior plans with this sort of pregnant girlfriend who is pretty sure we are getting hitched over New Year's and who, although a sport, might have ample grounds to question my commitment level and priorities in the event I dissappear from our planned lovefest and come back wet, cold, and intoxicated.
Hey, wait a second, is there any rule that the coveted title of "Miss Foamy" has to go to a virgin? Maybe my gal would play along if she, despite her bulging abdomonal region, could be a contender for the title. Very cool indeed.
Here's what I'll do: I'll run the whole idea past her. I'll suggest she cancel the plans and reservations she made and that instead of a quiet romantic get-married-getaway, we'll honk on down to confluence, get way wet and rowdy, flirt with a little hypothermia, slug down some 100 proof antifreeze with our knucklehead pals, and kick the New Year in with style! Oh, yah! This will be great.
On the off chance my beloved betrothed nixes this great idea, how about a rain date for insanity some night after work?
Ho ho ho. Merry Christmas to all.
I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I'm not a spoon.