Alas, the magic of the mystery of my broken window is no more. Ashley solved the puzzle earlier today while talking to Keough...
"So Ashley, was your house pretty beat up after?"
"Oh yeah, like... you don't even know."
"So how was Pat's window?"
"How'd you know about that???"
"Huh? We were standing in the driveway. The window flew open and Pat crawled out, pulled himself across the pavement, and threw up in the snowbank."
So yeah. The story was not as magical as I had at first thought it might be. I think Friday night was a low-point in my life. Don't get me wrong -- I was the happiest kid on the block right up until the moment when my GI tract started running in reverse. It's just that I have never been that drunk -- for that long a period -- in my entire life. All in all, even though I did lose vast reserves of dignity and bodily fluids, I don't think I've ever had such a prolonged sense of glee... or rather, man-joy, because as I've said before, guys don't tend to do the whole "glee" thing.
So yeah, since I awoke Saturday morning in my frigid bedroom, beneath a broken window -- a window in which the pane had not just been pierced, but of which the whole frame had been removed and replaced upside down -- since then, it's been a weekend of rediscovery. And now it's coming to a close.
But before it's over, here's one last video from the morning after. I'm not a big fan of it, but Coleman and Ashley are insisting that I post it up anyway. I guess it provides the context around the "poop" remark made in the previous video...
Over and out I'm done. Hope everyone had a good St. Paddy's Day weekend!
And sorry about not responding to any comments, but I assure you that I've read em' all and really appreciate them :)