In the next 24 hours, I hope to have the rental truck loaded and the apartment cleaned. (ha, ha- oh, planning! how ambitious and deluded!) And: the couch sold, the headboard tossed away, the kitchen table picked up, the cat groomed, the fridge cleaned, and an iTrip procured for the 6 hr drive to Wisconsin so I won't be forced to toggle between shitty middle-of-nowhere radio stations every 45 miles or so.
Last night's soiree at Barbette was lovely- I got to catch up with a fairly dispirate group of friends (of which Tara remarked later: "your friends are all couples! it was like a party of normalcy!") from work, college, shows, and high school (Tara, who I've known for about 10 years now, drove from Grand Rapids to buy me prosecco and encourage that second order of mussels).
I was all prepared and ready with my camera, but was having far too much fun gossiping and drinking and catching up and squeezing the life out of Jamie Ryan to be bothered to dig through my bag to find the camera and take a single photo. I am pleased at the functionality of the dress- I am always reticent to attempt to rock a strapless dress, but not only did this convertible halter/tube dress stay on, it kept my rack in place without me needing to adjust it once in seven hours. American Apparel, you win at making me look good.
As my fridge currently contains two dozen bottles of assorted mustards, a jar of pickled herring, four soy sauces, a tube of aloe vera gel, and three cups of yogurt, Tara and I were forced to go to Maria's Cafe for a morning-after breakfast. Such hardship. Before heading back home, I finally remembered the camera still stashed in my bag, and ran across the street to capture photographic evidence of the Suck-My-Dick Jesus.
"Go in peace, suck my cock."