Just Type Something

Hey peoples. I have abso-tootly nothing of coherence to write about today (as opposed to the barrel of coherent monkeys that I usually have to share) but I have committed myself to writing at least two posts a week (please no jokes about needing to commit myself, it's just too easy) and I am nothing if not Committment Ready (or whatever the opposite of Committment-phobic is) so you will be treated to some good old-fashioned diaherria-of-the-keyboard. As the cheerleaders like to yell: Ready, ok!

1. First of all, my birthday is coming up. Usually, I have been known to throw a party of some sort, all cake and candles and finery galore. The upside to this is that, well, it's a party, with all my peeps together in one glorious ball of gorgeousness. The downside of this is that a- I have to pick a date and time that may or may not work for all, and b- during the party I don't get to actually spend time with everyone. It's more like a friend-buffet, where I have to make room for all instead of actually catching up with each. So this year I decided that I would have actual dates with each and every one of my peeps for weeks around my birthday. The result is that my social calendar for the next few months looks a bit like Paris Hilton's, except for the fact that none of my sweet friends would ever, ever call someone a Firecrotch.

2. On Friday night, my neighbors to the back of us (who I have never met nor seen) had a rip-roaring hippie party in their back yard that started at 10pm and continued until 4am. FOUR. A. M. There was a drumming circle involved, people. I guess that technically I don't know for a fact that they were actually in a circle formation, but I have my suspicions. There was clapping, and singalong-ing, and folksy-ness abounding. Let me just remind you all that I live in the city, where yards are eensy little squares that butt up against each other in blocks. I snuggled up in bed and tried to sleep, and debated with myself about calling the po-po on them. I just couldn't bring myself to do that, because, well, hippies...they're so harmless. And they integrated a loud, buck wild cowbell into their drumming, which allowed Nordic Boy, Neighbor J and I to re-live the Christopher Walken/Will Farrell cowbell skit from SNL, so it was good times all around.

3. Does anyone else find that "Lips of an Angel" song the Funniest Thing Ever? Just asking.

4. Neighbor J crashed at my house on Saturday, and we stayed up until all hours of the night, laughing so much my throat and stomach still hurt today. Before I went to bed, I washed my face and brushed my teeth, but my MAC lipglass was a mighty powerful thing and some of it stayed on my lips as my head hit the pillow. The next morning, as Nordic Boy got out of bed, I did a double take. He had glitter ALL OVER his face. Apparently our nighttime smooching made him into Simon LeBon. I guess that means I have the Lips of an AAAYN-GEL.

It's not much, but that's all I've got, my lovelies.

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl