We had the family Rock Band party this Saturday. It was really my brother's gig and he set everything up. We put up the big tent at the family compound, hooked up his XBox to his digital projector, hung up some bedsheets as a screen, and we were good to go. We had perfect weather, and nearly everyone showed up. Sara had the most consistent high scores on vocals, as she makes up in enthusiasm and volume what she utterly lacks in pitch and harmony. Andrea kicked all our asses singing, of course, but I think I did pretty good on Moonage Daydream and Here Comes Your Man. Even reticent ol' Mario took a crack at the mike. A good time was had by all.Maybe too good of a time in my case.
Due to a serious misunderstanding, I drank an entire fifth of Bacardi. The misunderstanding was that I thought I could drink an entire fifth of Bacardi. I was completely useless all day Sunday (as opposed to my usual 3/4 useless) and am still hurting this morning. Sara and Andrea made me feel even worse by reminding me that after I finished the Bacardi, I moved on to straight amaretto on the rocks. Ouch.
I didn't thrown up, though perhaps I probably should have. But I just can't bring myself to vomit since my first trip to India. I guess after doing nothing but puking for three straight days of agony, you develop a mental block from ever doing it again.
By the way, kids, Barcardi O and V8 Splash Tropical Blend for the win.
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