In a few more hours, the Evil Genius and one of his buddies are hosting a joint 13th birthday party. Actually, according to them, it's a Glow-in-the-Dark, Hot Tub, Dance Party (oontz, oontz, oontz, oontz) Birthday Rave.
My house is plenty clean enough for a dozen teenage boys and almost clean enough for their Mamas.
There are marshamallow peeps to roast on the bonfire, glow sticks, glow-in-the-dark bubbles, stars, planets, and zombies, a totally fabulous glow-in-the-dark piñata, a dozen cans of silly string, birthday cake, my Personal Chef's famous hand-tossed pizza, some day-glow colored drink concoction, Thing 2's mad DJing skills, and the centerpiece of the Oasis of Awesomeness--the hot tub.
I stand corrected.
There are marshamallow peeps to roast on the bonfire, glow sticks, glow-in-the-dark bubbles, stars, planets, and zombies, a totally fabulous glow-in-the-dark piñata, a dozen cans of silly string, birthday cake, my Personal Chef's famous hand-tossed pizza, some day-glow colored drink concoction, Thing 2's mad DJing skills, and the centerpiece of the Oasis of Awesomeness--the hot tub.
If you don't hear from me in the next few days, come looking for me in the rubble, would you?
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