Is it ever Monday! 69 hours of engaging with the world. I have needed this weekend for so long.

Your hostess will document it thusly:


Half day at work on Friday
+ Little Italy street festival. With martinis!
+ MSULO
+ Tinsley
+ (a pretty neat dream in which I owned lots and lots of birdcages--pretty gilded ones and bent up ones too--and some of them had birds and some of them had things like cupcakes and hats in them)
+ Surprise! Party! For My Brother Jeff!
+ BBBQ
+ (another dream Saturday night about walking the dog on the side of some of my shoeboxes. We went to an old factory.)
+ Gym
+ Chili
+ Engagement Party (yea for Nicole & Darryl)
+ Ice Cream Sandwiches
+ a ride home in a little red sports car

= the kind of weekend whose ass-shaking and debauchery and tunes and good times make all jeans tighter and make crickets quit chirping every time you walk by. Like they afraid of getting caught or something. Weekends like this one make all the candy bars in your backpack really really melty and weekends like this one get prom queens pregnant.

Your hostess excluded, of course, because she has never been a prom queen. Or pregnant. Though that has been a running gag here on the canon that is Help! Bats! Everywhere!