Saturday was pig-roast day!  My friends hold this gigantic pig-roast once a year at their huge property in Campbellville, invite a whole bunch of people, and give us food, drink, and shelter for the entire afternoon and night.  It’s a shit show.

Drove up and parked under an apple tree.  Here is an apple:

We spent some time walking around, taking in the sights and sounds of the calm, tranquil country landscape…

…and started to drink.  Now, I’m trying really hard to not be a fat lard-ass lately, and I’ve come to the realization that drinking 12 beers to myself (as I often do on the weekend) is probably not positively contributing to the “non-lard-ass” cause.  So I’ve been trying to get back into vodka sodas lately.  Which is what I started drinking.

Just… keep note of that for later.

Anyways.  It was a gorgeous, gorgeous day. 

Usually I’m a “sit back and drink” kind of girl instead of a “playing games and being active” kind of girl, but the lure of cornhole was just too strong to resist.  Mostly because it gives you the opportunity to say “cornhole” in a sentence over and over and over.  Such as:

“Yeah, you love the cornhole”
“He’s been practicing cornholeing all winter”
“I bet you are an avid cornholer”
“Your backyard is perfect for cornholein””

… and so on.

It was during this intense cornholeing that I realized I was starting to get really, really drunk.  Now, if you’ve ever been drinking with me before, you know that I can really, really throw back my beer.  Fast.  I am used to this pace of alcohol consumption.

Important Note: when you are drinking vodka sodas, you need to pace yourself much much much more than when you are drinking beer.  I think that my level of intoxication was directly proportional to the number of pictures of my legs.

Oh look!  It’s my legs!

Look!  Legs!

This led to a photo series I like to call:

“Pictures of Me, Drunk on Vodka Sodas”

At this point, I realized I was much too drunk to be seen in public.  So I secretly walked over to my car, got in, and took a nap for about an hour without telling anyone.

Here is a picture of my legs in the car:

I got up just in time for food! 

Do you think I took enough?  There might be a touch more room on the right there, next to the fork…

That morroccan chickpea salad was the best.  I’m pretty sure I spent the next hour talking about it.  Everyone got annoyed.

Sunset.  Fire.  ‘Smores.

 Moon.