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Dear Diary,

Last night was ever so much fun! I went to a party and got a lock of everyone’s hair for my scrapbook. My art was hot glue-gunned to the wall by Jen.

Oh, Jen… will she ever settle down? She wore a short little dress and MOTORCYCLE BOOTS!! She’s trouble. See her little tiny head?:

The young man that sold me my dress failed to tell me that it also doubled as a shirt.

I blame him for the indecent length.

I also blame him for climate change, hiccoughs, Christopher Reeve’s “accident”, and my parents break-up.

~

There were so many tasty bits about that party. Jocelyn’s food and drink was dee. lish.us.

 Scott Parkin‘s street-level office was cooler (and cleaner) than anything I will ever own.

Maybe that’s why he asked me to stand by the door.

And sit in a highchair.

Studio on Fire displayed their goodness on the West Wall. And by that I mean, Ben Levitz stood nude on a chair in front of the West Wall. It wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable. Something about the beard made him seem fully dressed.

Part II of the evening was jam-packed full of comedy. Stephen Lynch was gracious enough to give us front row seats to his show. Um, I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard since he came to town last year. AND did you know that The Hilton grills up Steak Bites for hungry travelers after midnight? Well, they do. We ate them and laughed at Rod Cone.

Or was it the other way around?

BUT there was one thing we all could agree on: It would be better to lose an arm than have your face chewed off by a chimp.

AND never wrestle a Praying Mantis. 

Oh, and somehow during the course of the evening, this happened:

Oh, Diary… what will tomorrow bring?!