Recovery

Aargh...so tired. Well, I think the party went quite well and I'd say I successfully cooked for 13 people without going crazy or accidentally poisoning everyone.

It was a lot of fun. Tons of food, no one left hungry that was for sure. We did the playlist contest (I'm psyched to say Wife won with a pretty damn good playlist) and it was fun to see what music people brought. It was pretty funny though when Husband and his friend Thomas decided there was "us" and "them" when it came to music (I like to hope I'm included in the "us" group...). Hmm, maybe you had to be there for that one.

Drinking Jenga followed, there was some stripping, a wine glass full of tequila, and general hilarity. Unfortch, Husband discovered that antibiotics and alcohol don't mix well and his night ended less than stellar-ly (yeah, i know it isn't a word).

Nonetheless, there were some damn good quotes, which, after about 17 Coronas, it seemed like a good idea to write down (ok, i didn't have that many beers, you get the picture though). I think most of these are courtesy of Thomas who amuses me to no end:

• The end is very fucking nigh.
• Friends don't let friends rock lint.
• Fight Club you asshole!
• Now I have to go to Best Buy to buy my Swedish fucking deathmetal shit.
• Now I fucking know why there was prohibition.

Mmm, yeah, maybe you had to be there for some of those too. I had a great time though and I hope everyone else did too.

Spent most of the day fighting off a headache (not fair, I didn't even feel buzzed after all I drank last night but I still have to suffer with the headache today!) and running around Ann Arbor from indie record store to indie record store "getting the story." All I could think of was this bit from Hunter S. Thompson's Generation of Swine:

"Did you have fun?" asked the bell captain, as he opened the driverside door for me.
"Are you crazy?" I said. "I have a serious deadline to meet. We've been at the tattoo parlor all night. It was the only way to do it."
"What?" he said. "You got yourself tattooed?"
"Oh no," I told him. "Not me." I pointed to Maria, who was already far into the lobby. "She's the one who got the tattoo," I said. "A huge red and black panther between her shoulder blades."
He nodded slowly, but I could see that his face was tense. "What do you mean?" he said. "You made that poor girl get tattooed? Just for a newspaper story?"
"It was the right thing to do," I said. "We had no choice. We are, after all, professionals."


Well, I had no choice and I got the story, so it's all good. I also scored an interview with Ollie Tamale from The Oohlas. I'm going to speak with her this week and I'm psyched. I am, after all, a professional ;)
Ciao,
~S