I woke up at eleven today, which anyone will tell you is insanely uncharacteristic for me, especially since I went to bed at twelve and woke up once to let the maid in. But, for some reason, I did not want to get out of bed today. I finally did. I squeezed my eyes till they felt less heavy, and I drank some chai and listlessly checked email. Maybe it’s delayed jetlag I thought. I scrolled through reader, and talked to a friend about seeing a movie. She declined, so I went and saw it myself. I had lunch in the food court and read Eleven on Top, and giggled to myself hysterically for an hour, before I went in to see the movie and nearly pissed myself laughing.
Then I had a few hours of what the fuck are we doing with our lives with my friend before I headed out to a beeeg gay dance partai. Only, the Poo and Dragon between them, the lazy bums, didn’t want to wait till ten thirty when the partai started, so here we are, at eleven thirty, sitting in my living room. And I’m listening to more Katie Melua and writing posts, while Dragon is in her room, chatting with someone, and the Poo is on the divan, reading her book.
Somehow, tonight was a night I could have used a very drunken party, or some serious affirmation. Or both. But ther’es no fun in a reluctant party! So this post is for my friends back home, for KaraokeBoy, and Diepe, and Krum, and DancerBoy, and SingerBoy; for those friends of mine who are always ready to party. I really needed you guys tonight.