I just got back from a birthday party at a bar with a lot of lovely women and their lovely men. Interestingly, I was actually told several times not to blog such-and-such a conversation or, alternatively, asked if I’d been writing about so-and-so when I wrote this-or-that (yes, I realize by even typing this sentence I am violating my 1st Blog Principle: Don’t Blog About Blogging). Honestly, people, am I some kind of society-column harpy that I’m going to immediately run home and bang out every little juicy tidbit from our shared social life? (P.S. Damn Janel’s ass looked good tonight!!).
I drank lemon ice water the whole time, which can be hard to do when you’re in a bar for three hours. This was in large part because I misplaced my fricken purse mere minutes before the party. And also because booze and good sleep just don’t mix for me – and tonight I choose sleep. I was offered a free drink no fewer than six times by several people. First, let me say how very, very sweet of my friends! But you know? I’ve done the I-don’t-have-cash-so-I-let-someone-cover-me thing (as a gift or payback, both) before. It’s so damn tired. If I’m going to leave my booty behind I’ve gotta suffer the consequences. And really, the group were such wonderful, entertaining people I was glad to have a clear eye and a sharp mind (well, as sharp as my mind gets) to enjoy them. A bit of ass-kissing here for my friends, but I do mean it.
Not sure how it happened but at some point a few of us started talking about our underthings which led to a little show and tell – entirely PG by the way. Unfortunately since I was in a dress (yes, I know how to wear one) I was unable to share my blue Victoria’s Secret boy briefs – my favorite pair, actually – without having to hike up my whole kit. So, I refrained. Another instance where stone-cold sobriety helped crucial decision-making. And yes, I know I am obsessed with panties. There’s just so much to like!
This afternoon I sewed obsessively on my girlfriends’ present (a red velvet purse) to have it done in time for the party. Man, I am such a sewing dork. Make friends with me and get some stupid sewn thing that I obsessed far more on than you could ever grow to love it. I suppose I should start buying the more typical bath salts or what-have-you type of thing (suggestions appreciated). It isn’t that I’m cheap (in fact I spend far too much on fabric) it’s that I love sewing and would sew myself a baby if that worked.
Well. I smell like smoke. My downstairs is cold. And I’m ready to jump in the shower, get into soft PJs and snuggle with my husband.
Nightie-night.