ammogirl

So on our last day in Innsbruck, after a quick trip to the Apotheke for Lindsey (who now knows to always expect the worst, in terms of womanly things, ahem), we all packed up and headed over to the train station. Now, we were not travelling light. When we all finally made it to the same place (two taxis and a stroller walk later), we had amassed the following: 7 adults, 2 teenage girls, 2 one-year-old twin boys, 13 suitcases, 3 backpacks, 1 diaper bag, 2 porta-cribs, 2 baby backpack carriers, and a double stroller. It sort of sucked. Getting on and off a train in the two minutes it stops took supreme coordination and a referee for the inevitable bitching that coordination entailed. “That one. NO, that one…look, it’s right…forget it. I WILL GET IT.” I’m sure it didn’t help when I started in with the by-the-second countdown. I don’t know why.

When we arrived in Munich, it took a bit to get a taxi to the hotel–one of the only bad parts of the trip, really. We made it, though, and ran into Sandee immediately after we got there, and within 45 minutes everyone had settled into their rooms, cleaned up a bit, and regrouped in the lobby for what became the first in a long, long, never-ending, soul-sucking, exhausting, tight-jeans-making series of beer. Christ on a cracker, the grain from the beer I drank over those four days could have fed an entire third-world country. I would give you stories, but seriously? I spent the entire time with a buzz, so things are a little fuzzy. One morning, I woke up and declared quite vehemently over breakfast, “I cannot drink another sip of beer!” and then two hours later, where do I find myself? At a pub in the shopping district of Munich, cheers-ing yet again. Note to self: do not let yourself loose in the Munich shopping district while drinking. SWI results in purchasing…everything in sight, really. At one point, I was sent back to the stores to locate Christy, who was MIA. I found her in a jewelry store specializing in hand-made jewelery (hey! which one is it, Wordpress built-in spell checker? I didn’t get a red line for jewelry OR jewelery. Although I did get one for Wordpress. Hmmmm.) and as soon as I identified myself as being with Christy, who was also spending money like we were peeing it, the shopkeeper gave me a “special” coffee (read: alcoholic) and started pointing out which pieces would look best on me. At first I was like, “bitch, just give me the coffee”, but after a sip or two I changed my tune to “oh my gosh you are so right, this really expensive necklace I will NEVER WEAR (and break within 24 hours of purchasing it) goes so well with these astronomically priced boots I just bought! Wrap it up!”

I still haven’t told John how much I spent. Not because he would mind, or even care, but because I am horrifyingly ashamed. Fiscal smarts indeed.

Anyway, we eventually made it to the Hofbrauhaus, which is the most famous in the world. But truthfully all I noticed was the ginormous beer I was served. And served. And served. And you guys, does anyone remember when I used to love wine? Where was I during this trip? Also, a litre of beer? HEAVY.

We continued on in that vein for awhile, waiting until the verrrrrrryyyyy last minute to leave, to make it to John’s birthday dinner on time. For some reason, I was not concerned about the time. Huh.

Dinner went well, John turned 30, family stuff and I might or might not have had a small tear at one point and blah blah blah then we were done, and trying to muster up enough energy for the beer-fueled 30th birthday party we had all been planning for the last ten months. Only…we sort of had turned the entire trip into the party, which…left me tired. However, my husband will only turn 30 once, so I did what every good wife does: I drank through it with everyone at the hotel bar.

Oh! I forgot. So, I’ve already told you that the Europeans are a bit more lax in regards to BOOBS and SKIN and SEX, and that’s cool and all, but when they offer 24-hour pay-per-view porn on the hotel tv, it would be nice if they would do more than place a cursory 3×3 notice in the middle of the dirty sex show that covers up exactly one-half of a nipple and perhaps a beaver shot or two. Maybe. Our first night, John and I were flipping through the channels when BLAM! PORN! We were like, ha ha, hey, porn, and then I realized, oh shit! The girls can see this too!

Now, I don’t think my girls are sheltered flowers or anything, and we’ve had the talk and they know about sex and all, but it’s not like I sit down every Friday with them and turn on Anal Fury for family night (no, I haven’t seen it, don’t ask for a review). Therefore, I felt that the getting!every!hole!stuffed!girl on the screen might have been a bit of shock to them, and I ran right down to their room and said, “So. Um…hey, how are you guys doing? Tired? Going to sleep soon DO NOT TURN IT ON CHANNEL 41!! PORN-O-RAMA!” and while some of you might feel that was the WORST thing to do in that situation, trust me…even if they did look (which I know they didn’t), they wouldn’t have lasted more than three seconds before turning the channel in embarrassment. But at least they were forewarned.

Anyway, god, this is really going on and on, isn’t it? Okay. So the next day we woke up and after some sightseeing that did not include beer (really! I swear!) we all met up at the Hofbrauhaus AGAIN, where we drank beer AGAIN, and then went back to Steve and Sandee’s (John’s dad and step-mom, by the way) hotel sports bar, where we ate onion rings and nachos and chicken wings and…drank fucking beer while watching football. Of the American variety. The next morning, we said our goodbyes to those who were staying, and packed up those who were coming with, and headed home. We spent our last evening at our house with everyone the same way as we spent our first night: dinner from the local restaurant and a shot of Jaeger.

Everyone flew home on Tuesday and then I spent all last week in a state of utter exhaustion. That’s it! It was so much fun. If you haven’t looked at my flickr pics yet, make sure you do, or head over to John’s site, where he posted ALL of the pictures (not just the ones that flatter me).

You guys. Seriously…I’m so over beer.

Tschuss!!