Weekend Wrap Up

First off...happy birthday Mom! Hope your day got better....

What a crazy weekend. Non stop wackiness. After I got off work, I drove out to Zappagirl's house to get ready for the Witches Ball, only to find that she was STILL sewing her costume, and Timmy was out picking his up. We were going to be quite late. (I was running late too. Who knew it could take that long to shave your legs and cover yourself in glitter?) I finally ended up driving separately since I was supposed to be meeting friends from work, as well as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

The Ball was an absolute blast. Missed JohnnyB's play, but did make it there in time for the end of the drumming circle. I ended up bonking at least fifty people in the head with my wings (follow up to my dilemma from weeks ago: I ended up going as a fairy). We redubbed it the Pagan Prom and spent the evening dancing to cheesy music and looking for pretty goth boys. (Alas, all the pretty boys we found were either with someone or batting for the other team. Sorry, Jooles. We'll do better next time.)

Went to lunch with Nash on Saturday, then went back to his apartment to watch The Talented Mr. Ripley and discuss the differences between the movie and the novel. Somewhere over the course over the afternoon, a bottle of Absolut Mandarin and an extremely potent German liqueur became involved, and plans to go to Fearfest at Paramount's Kings Island were scrapped. Fade to black.

Sunday - oh, my head. I really didn't mean to drink that much. Alcohol bad. I spent most of the day appalled that I let myself get that messed up. I really am my own worst enemy, and the greatest punishment that can be inflicted upon me is to allow me to guilt trip myself. Well, that and try to figure out where all the bruises came from.

Finally decided I have mentally abused myself long enough, and go to Bogart's with Nash to see BT and Hooverphonic. Spent most of the night avoiding offers of alcoholic beverages, but eventually relented and drank a Mike's Hard Lemonade. So trendy! And so sickly-sweet. Switched to Diet Coke at first opportunity. Sweated a good ten pounds off from dancing my butt off with the Glow Stick Brigade. The crowd was older than expected, so I had a really good time, but my feet were killing me and my hair looked awful by the time the show was over. Oh well. Who was I trying to impress? Went home expecting to fall asleep immediately, but ended up watching X-Files rerun. The lone Gunmen go to Vegas. Scully becomes a bimbo. Hee. Somehow this makes insomnia a bit more bearable.

Congratulations to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern on the arrival of 6 new kittens today. The feline population has doubled in the house. If anyone wants a new kitty, speak up!

"The fact that you're not answering leads me to believe that (a) you're not home, (b) you're home but you don't want to talk to me, or (c) you're home, desperately want to talk to me, but you're trapped under something heavy. If it's either (a) or (c). please give me a call." - Harry Burns, When Harry Met Sally

I was supposed to go see Lost Souls with Roger Mexico tonight, but he's not answering his phone. I'm a little worried. Not that I'm all that jazzed about seeing the movie (we seem to have an uncanny knack for picking big budget pieces of crap - Mission to Mars, anyone?), but I've not been able to reach him since yesterday afternoon. Hopefully this just means he left his cel phone at work....