Beware! Blabbering Ahead!

Yet another fantastic weekend was had by yours truly.

It was a tad bittersweet, as my dear Hobbsley had to head back to K-Town in the wee hours of Saturday morning. However, The House of Pain hosted one fabulous going away party in his honor, if I might toot my own horn here for a moment. The last time I hosted a costume party was in the good old days of The Embassy, and I must say we lived up to the parties of the old days. We danced, we laughed, we dressed up as dead celebrities. That's me as Courtney Love*, at left. This photo kind of reminds me of the "Live Through This" cover, and I think that's a nice co-incidence, considering I was most likely rockin' out to Stevie Wonder at the time this photo was taken. Yup, it was a time.

For some unknown reason, I awoke after the Dead Celebrity Party bright eyed and bushy tailed, hangover free. Not that I'm complaining, but boy oh boy, there's no logical explanation for it. I spent Saturday afternoon cleaning the house and yard, and preparing myself mentally for the evening ahead.

The evening did not disappoint. Smyrish and I attended a sex toy party hosted by my friend Ms. R and her hubby. Once the sales pitch was over, and everyone was fed yummy appetizers, we headed to the hot tub they rented for the guests, for drinks, laughs, and more drinks. (FYI - jello shooters+hot tub=good times). We had to leave Ms. R's early, to head back to the House of Pain for TypicalQuirk's going away party (damn, everyone is leaving us!), and it was a nice relaxing few hours of smoking and drinking the leftovers from Friday, and eating in the basement, as we guffawed at Robot Chicken, and were mesmerized by the blokes from Trainspotting. There were many laughs, and much flirtation and I received a couple of good back rubs, which, I have recently learned, are just heavenly after a night in a hot tub.

Because I am apparently invincible, I awoke Sunday morning hangover free once again. Maybe I've been drinking too much this summer, and have permanently pickled myself. Who knows.

Anyways. Sunday was glorious, as all Sunday's are for me. The Cookster and her boyfriend came over for coffee and a visit in the morning, and it was wonderful to have them. We have been very estranged this summer, and I wasn't sure that I was even going to see her at all, or ever again, and this weekend, I had the privilege of visiting with her twice. It was as comfortable as an old shoe, hangin' with The Cookster, and it gives me hope that I might just see her again soon, sometime.

After that visit, Das Piper came over for coffee, Smyrish cut the lawn, and we had a nice afternoon of visiting in the backyard. I made a nice Sunday dinner for those two boys, and even though I fell asleep on the couch and accidentally over-cooked everything, they seemed to be grateful for the nourishment, as was I. I haven't cooked a proper meal at home in months. The evening ended with a movie and Scrabble and wine and visiting with Smyrish, and it was a wonderful ending to a wonderful weekend.

So here I am. The roommates are at the beach, and the house is empty. It's two-thirty in the morning, I am still wide awake, having a glass of wine, singing to Serena Ryder at the top of my lungs,when I should be exhausted and passed out in bed from the weekends festivities. Maybe staying up all night, every night, for months now, has inhibited my sense of when to quit, and just sleep.

Ah, fuck it, I have all winter to sleep. For now, I'll just bask in the glow of a glorious weekend, and wait for my body to tell me it's time to sleep, and not my brain.

Goddamn, I love my life.


* I am aware that Courtney Love is not dead, but my arguement was, that she was dead inside, so it counted.