Just another Saturday night as a 30 something...

Remember when I used to party like a rock star?  Me either.  What's crazy is that it's not like I've abandoned the group of friends who used to participate in said rock star partying.  We still hang out.  It's just now we've begun to multiply like flies, we drink wine (we've moved on from Arbor Mist) instead of Bacardi 151 Busch light, and we no longer puke in the drive through of fast food restaurants at 3 in the morning are typically home well before midnight. 

Don't get me wrong, I still know every word of "Back dat ass up" and will, on an occasion (and with a certain enthusiasm I would only display in front of my husband), bust that shit out when it's "clean the bathroom day", but it's been a long time since my ass has backed up into anything...unless you count last Sunday, when I was literally forced to rub my ass up against the car next to me while attempting to navigate the car seat into the back of my jeep because Mr. IownahummerbecauseIthinkitwillhelpmegetlaid decided to give me 3 whole inches to get into my vehicle in the Target parking lot.  But other than that, I like to keep my ass as closely parallel to the rest of my body as possible these days. 

In fact, when we find ourselves rockpaperscissoring our significant others at a party because we're attempting to pawn off the next diaper change on one another, we often ask ourselves, "What happened to us?  We used to be cool!"  Well, life, I guess.  Now we chair community events and educate children and talk shop and teach yoga on Saturday mornings. 


Funny you bring up yoga.  One of the long standing members of our "we used to be cool in college" group - we'll call him "Mr. A" - does happen to teach yoga on an occasion.  Recently, after a few glasses of Cabernet, he decided it was important to show us a new yoga move he's considering incorporating into the "partner" portion of his class.  He asked for volunteers and his best friend since they were negative years old enthusiastically stepped forward. 

I think it's wise to let the photos speak for themselves:

It just didn't look quite right at first.



It wasn't working out with Mr. A on the bottom, so they made a switch.

This is where it gets weird (in case you were wondering):

Let's take another look at that angle:

Mr. A (over laughter, but totally serious):
It's imperative to keep your toes pointed for balance.

And THAT'S when Paul walked in to room and said, "Me next!"

The end.

Note:  No humans were harmed in the making of this post. It should also be noted that no one pictured in this post actually threw up in the drive through of a fast food restaurant after being introduced to Bacardi 151.  That was...a different friend.  For truesies.

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