So I went to Barry's b-day party last night; the guest list was as expected, with the addition of Graham, Noble Joshua, and some friends of Barry's who I didn't know.

Drunk-talk plans were made, some of which are, in the cold light of day, clearly non-starters. Also, Jess was writing down quotes: I'm curious to see what she got. One of my friends from work has an entire cubicle wall devoted to good quotes, so I've been working on my bon mots.

You know the times are good when you feel guilty about leaving at 2 am.

My breathalyzer is broken, lord knows why, so I prettymuch drank only for the first hour, then spent the rest of the night sobering up. It's a system that works, at least that's the hope, but I miss having a number to attach to my inebriation.

(Even if it's an inaccurate one — the instruction manual alternates between proclaiming my breathalyzer's precision and declaring that it's for novelty purposes only.)

So right now there's information that's just getting lost. I think I'm going to have to spend another 30 bucks. Seriously, where does all this money I'm making now go.

Anyways, I don't recall saying anything especially out of character (note to the complete stranger who might have thought I was patronizing her: I really am interested in tattoos! really!) and today instead of being hungover I have the Lightness. (Some Lawrentians call that "pulling an Alan," I believe.) So that rocks.

Unfortunately, I'm missing the after-party breakfast — whenever I'm at a party somewhere else, I get this foolish notion that my own bed is the Best Place in the World — but with any luck I'll be eating scrambled eggs in about fifteen minutes.