No, You Can't Say the Zed Word!

sheer brilliance.

apparently, some people (who would probably be my friends if i knew them) hacked into the computers for construction signs in austin, texas. they changed them to things like this:






other choices included, "the end is near!", "nazi zombies! run!", and the less creative (i think) "run for colder climates!". of course, it IS technically a crime, so the perps did get caught... but it's still fantastic. it totally would have made my drive to work. you can read the full story here.

Just Can't Help Being All Shook Up In My Blue Suede Shoes By My Burning Love When You Love Me Tender In Las Vegas. Love, Your Teddy Bear

john and i are planning a trip to vegas for sometime this year. clearly, research needs to go into this. i mean, you can’t just show up to the Frivolity Capital of the World without a game plan. there are so many things to do, it would be easy to become overwhelmed. so we started info-gathering. it started with three categories: shows; activities, clubs, etc.; and shopping. (because of course there were charts and graphs that needed to be made…) i have since changed the categories to "legit stuff," "ridiculousness," and "clearly we need to do this." and yes, i realize that some items in the “ridiculousness” and “clearly we need to do this” groups will overlap, but whatever. i’ll get to these charts at a later blog, i’m sure, but really this is all just exposition for the point of this blog. after the obvious suggestions – cirque du soleil, roulette, elvis impersonators – john suddenly took in a big dramatic breath.

“ooh! We should totally get married in vegas! by elvis, of course.”

it should be noted that honestly, i love this idea. it’s hilarious, tacky, ridiculous, and totally us. you just have to kind of ignore the fact that we both like boys and aren’t remotely attracted to each other. (well, we’re both attractive people, and we cannot take a bad picture together, but you know what i mean. and wow, did that sound conceited. ah, well – the picture thing is true, though. i'll put up the evidence in a later blog.) unfortunately, both of our mothers are staunch catholics and they would most probably disown us both if we did so. (john’s response: “hey, my parents might actually be excited that I’m marrying a girl.” but i can already hear my mother preparing a “marriage is a sacrament” speech, and john was forced to admit that we’d be yelled at by both sets of in-laws. it would be bad enough to be disowned by my own mother; but being renounced by both of them would certainly be traumatic.) but we are creative people, and naturally we found a way to get around this: we figured that none of these places is going to care if we don't have a marriage certificate as long as we let them know that WE know this. we can turn it into a “platonic soul mates” ceremony or something...

so we set about researching places to get married by elvis. because, really, if you’re going to get married in vegas, it really ought to be by the king, or by one of those drive-thru wedding chapels. otherwise, why even bother with vegas? (the one exception being people like my friend jen, who was actually from vegas, and had most of her family there.) this is my favorite site…. i was reading these out to john over the phone and i could barely speak because i was laughing so hard. there were at least two points in the conversation that i had to stop completely and just dissolve into giggles. this place is a gold mine of ridiculousness – it’s brilliant. the best parts:

1. can’t afford a hawaiian wedding? no problem – you can purchase the "blue hawaii" theme wedding. (hula dancer only an additional $140!)
2. no matter what package you choose, you get a copy of elvis and priscilla’s wedding certificate. perfect for framing next to yours, or for any of your scrapbooking needs.
3. elvis will escort the bride down the aisle. way swankier than be given away by your father, or anyone else that you might actually know in real life.
4. there are choices of themes for elvis. you can choose “gold lame," “black leather jumpsuit, “ or “aloha” for an additional fee. you know, just in case black leather doesn’t go with your bridal colors.
5. if you can’t decide, there’s always the “the famous dueling elvis package” – not one but TWO, that’s right, TWO elvises. you get a young elvis in gold lame, and (i would guess) an (older, fatter) elvis in his flashy sequined 70’s las vegas jumpsuit!
6. “flashy sequined 70’s las vegas jumpsuit” is actually a direct quote from the website. behold it’s awesome selling power!
7. you have the ability to have pictures like these in your wedding album:

8. you can be like these people! (actual website copy: “Las Vegas Weddings: Wedding in Las Vegas is one of the best wedding ideas- join the likes of Jon Bon Jovi and Billy Ray Cyrus!”) a few questions, people… do you really want to be just like billy ray cyrus?

i mean, look at that hair, people! you can't follow the example of someone who looks like this on purpose!

and i’m confused; is jon bon jovi marrying this guy?

oh, wait… this makes more sense…

and who exactly was richard simmons marrying? a woman? someone from this planet? richard, i’m pretty sure there’s a wedding day rule of not out-pompadour-ing your wedding officiant. it’s probably right after “don’t upstage the bride,” another rule which was probably broken…

awesomeness. i cannot make this stuff up!

Or Was It the Red Pill? Wait - I Don't Have Red Ones...

i seem to have done it again. once again, my memory - which was getting a bit run down on its own, thank you very much - is failing me. my mind used to be a steel trap; i had a photographic memory until i was about 18, at which point it apparently decided it had been working too hard and downgraded itself to a raccoon cage of the aluminum variety. (i have been assured this is perfectly "normal" - people with photographic memories often lose them at some point in their lives. whatever.) somewhere along the way it became more like mosquito netting: it kept most things safe, but every once in a while, something small enough would pass through. now, due i guess to the fibro or whatever the hell's wrong with me, that netting could pass for swiss cheese... the holes are large enough for a hippo to fall through, never mind my day-to-day or hour-to-hour activities. what did i forget this time? my meds. or rather, i forgot what i did with my meds.

this, unfortunately, is not new. i had to go home one day last year because i took the night-time meds in the morning and was literally falling asleep in my first period class. i sometimes forget to take the zoloft in the morning (when i'm always the fuzziest) and if i miss it two days in a row, i get physically ill, which then alerts me to the fact that i haven't taken it. i have one of those colossal pill-counter-container thingies (which john makes fun of me for) but i had been doing so well the last month or two that i haven't been using it. and because of it, i did what i did today... which was forgetting that i took my zoloft this morning, and taking another this afternoon. which is why i'm as wired as a hyena on 5 tripple-shot espressos. my body is beyond exhausted, but my mind - oh it's FAR too excited to be concious. it's 1:23 in the morning, and i'm jumping out of my skin - and trust me, these days i don't EVER bounce, let alone jump, out of anything. i also think i may have a percoset instead of the 800 mg ibuprofin. (hey, the pills look the same. why the percoset bottle was on the counter instead of the ibuprofin bottle is way beyond me. it's hard to tell really. i mean, i found a fork in the freezer yesterday, and a mango in with my tupperware. seriously, i'm ridiculous.) anyway, please excuse the random blathering, because i'm really a big fat mess right now. a big fat AWAKE mess... arrgh.

Family of the Bride or Groom?

courtesy of cake wrecks... check out this sweet stop-motion animation...

Here's To Change

unfortunately, i won't be downtown this morning. i do have to work, but mostly it'd be a nightmare to get there: only one bridge is open, and most of the streets are shut down in a 40 block radius. but i will be watching it live on cspan.com - and hoping for the best as we enter a new phase in our country's (and our world's) history.

Thanks, Speedy God (And Other Misheard Things)

mondegreen: (n) a word or phrase resulting from a misinterpretation of a word or phrase that has been heard. Origin: 1954; coined by Sylvia Wright, U.S. writer, from the line "laid him on the green," interpreted as Lady Mondegreen, in a Scottish ballad

when ramona quimby (of the beverly cleary books) was learning the "star spangled banner" in school, she thought she had learned new vocabulary words. she asked her parents to turn on the "dawnzer," meaning the lamp. they were confused. ramona explained that it gave "lee light". beezus, her older sister, burst out laughing as she realized what ramona meant: instead of "the dawn's early light," ramona had heard "the dawnzer's lee light."

we've all been a victim of this at some point in our lives. i mentioned "la isla bonita" in the previous blog; and though i am well aware that the words are, "last night i dreamt of san pedro," i still hear "some bagels" to this day. when i was little and sitting in church, i tried to say the responses as best i could, although since i couldn't yet read, i just had to go by what i heard. the actual words said after a reading from the bible are "thanks be to god," but at 3 or 4, what i heard was, "thanks, speedy god." i thought we were thanking him for a quick reading so we could get on to the rest of mass. (hey, when you're a little kid, an hour-long mass goes on forever.)

remember that (bad) chumbawumba song, tubthumping? (they did actually have better songs, but that was the only one that caught on over here.) anyway, the song happened to come on during a gathering in college, and i remember a friend of tony's singing along, "i get knocked down, but i'm an opera fan!" after the hysterical laughter, we told him the actual words. he admitted that he thought "opera fan" didn't make much sense, but then neither did the rest of the song, so who was he to question?

there are the classics of course: "excuse me while i kiss this guy" instead of "the sky"; "blinded by the light's" "rolled up like a douchebag" (it's "revved up like a deuce"); several sections in "it's the end of the world (as we know it)" and "we didn't start the fire"; and - probably my favorite - "there's a bathroom on the right" instead of "bad moon on the rise". one of my friends, as a kid, thought "she's got a ticket to ride," was actually "she's got a chicken to hide." that would have been an interesting video...

A Blog of Self-Randomness

mary tagged me on facebook to do this, and i did because i was wound up from driving home from my parents'. (p.s. mom is fine; it doesn't look like she'll lose the ear. how wierd is that to say in normal conversation?) i decided to post it here, too, for fun. 25 random facts about me:

1. when i was little, i wanted to be either a solid gold dancer or a vegas showgirl. when my mom asked why, i told her, "because they get to dance for their job, and they get to wear sparkly outfits. and the solid gold dancers get to be on tv." mom could not argue with this logic.
2. i've always been able to write backwards.
3. i can also read upside down, but that gives me a headache after a while...
4. i always feel bad when i automatically correct someone's grammar, especially if it's someone i don't know very well. i'm afraid i come off condescending, but it's just habit from correcting teenagers every day for three years.
5. for whatever reason - maybe it's the polish and irish ancestry - i've always had an awesome alcohol tolerance, and never got hangovers. my first (and only) hangover EVER was when i was 27, after the infamous "ginormous hurricane" incident. it sucked. alot.
6. i've been ziplining in costa rica twice - once on either coast.
7. when typing informal things (like this note), i tend to eschew capital letters. i call it my e.e. cummings phase.
8. i use a lot of semi-colons and ellipses and dashes in my writing, because that's how i usually talk.
9. i miss teaching a lot, but i love that i get to wear scrubs to work now.
10. i can wink with my left eye, but not with my right. well, i kind of can, but i takes a lot of concentration and i just end up looking like i'm having a stroke.
11. my favorite superhero is super grover.
12. i'm kinda artsy-fartsy and ridiculously arts-and-craft-y.
13. i'm so excited for the trip to vegas john and i are planning.
14. i really, REALY miss florida winters right about now.
15. and while were on the subject, i had to buy my first snow boots in probably, what? ten years or so? eeks.
16. i say "eeks" and "oi" and "meh" often.
17. when i was getting ready to move, several of my kids were upset and made me promise to be there for graduation. that felt pretty awesome.
18. i went to disneyland for the first time last spring, and i think i like it better than our magic kingdom. i still love epcot - and our other parks - and i know mk is based on disneyland, but somehow the original is just... better.
19. i hate when good friends drift apart. i understand it's a part of life, and learning and growing; i hate it, nonetheless.
20. the first time i ever heard "la isla bonita" by madonna as a child, i heard, "last night i dreamt of some bagels." i knew that couldn't be right, but that's what it sounded like. next time it comes on the radio, listen; you'll hear... and from now on you'll hear "some bagels" instead of "san pedro."
21. i miss holidays at lion king. i've never been a big thanksgiving/christmas person, but those days were the best if you had to work at lolk. we had two or three tables groaning under the weight of all the food. the managers bought the meat (turkey and ham) and we all brought in the other stuff. it was a long glorious day of food, show, nap, repeat...
22. when i lived in lexington (i was about 4), the wallpaper in my room had outlines of cartoon animals. one day, when i guess i got bored of my own coloring books, i decided to color in part of the wallpaper. my mother couldn't decide whether to punish me for writing on the walls, or praise me because i did such a good job...
23. i guess i had more random stuff to say than i thought.
24. i love that facebook allows me to catch up with old friends i thought i'd lost.
25. i really want to get another tattoo, but i'm having difficulties making up my mind about what exactly i want. i know what i want it to mean, but not what the actual appearance should be.

Someone Page Dr. House, Please!

seriously, would it kill a member of my family to have a nice, normal medical problem? the flu, say, or chicken pox, or any one of a thousand other maladies that are easily diagnosed and fixed... is that too much to ask for? we know about all my bizarro issues, from the fibro complications down to the random floating piece of bone in my right elbow that occasionally pinches a nerve. and my parents are no different. i blame all my medical issues on them, because they also cannot seem to have average every-day illnesses. my mother was admitted to the hospital today due to an infection in the cartilage of her ear. she's had pain since friday, it got consistently worse over the weekend, and didn't respond to any of the copious amounts of antibiotics they prescribed her. they admitted her so that they could pump even more ridiculously large amounts of drugs into her - because if they don't get the infection soon enough, it could disintegrate the cartilage of her ear. seriously? what the hell? can you think of a more random, potentially harmful thing? you may watch house on t.v. and think, "well, that's pretty far-fetched - who would that happen to?" the answer is us, my friend; my family - we're the freaks that these things happen to. oi. and keep mom in your thoughts, would ya? thanks.

It's a Sickness. Like Anorexia. Well, Kind Of.

my mother has this weird mental sickness about her hair. even though she has fabulous hair, she thinks it's dull and flat. emphasis on the flat. she will buy any product that promises her more volume, and then swear it doesn't really work. trust me when i say she doesn't need these products as her hair has awesome natural body. she doesn't see it. maybe it's because she's a product of the 60's and bouffant hairstyles, who knows? but just like an anorexic can weigh 67 pounds and still see a fat person in the mirror, my mother still sees flat listless hair even though it's bouncing around her shoulders with life.

i have a sickness too. it has to do with journals.

i collect them like it's my job. blank journals, with smooth lined pages and pretty covers... i can't resist them. there's something about all that potential, all those blank slates waiting to be filled with hopes or dreams or lists or creative thoughts. the problem with this is that i almost never use them. for anything. i make lists all the time, but beautifully bound journals are too lovely to waste on something i need for a few hours then can be thrown away. i don't keep a diary (that's what blogger is for), i rarely - if ever - journal, i do my creative writing mostly on computer, and i have at least 12 - 14 of these hanging around somewhere. oh, sometimes they get repurposed, as a gift, or if one of my teens needs encouragement to write down their thoughts somewhere.... but mostly? mostly i just seem to collect them. i had actually been doing quite well lately, largely due to the fact that i'd been poor... but i relapsed today. i bought a pretty journal with a raised design from a tiffany lamp, with a small magnetic strap that wraps from back to front to keep it closed. (i'm a sucker for Special Features.) it's really pretty. and i'm going to put it to use. probably tonight.

as soon as i figure out what to use it for...

NYE in D.C. - A Photo Essay (Part 2 - The Freaks Come Out at Night)

the evening was in full swing. most of the party-goers had arrived, and if their behavior was any indication, i'd say most of them had drunk themselves into oblivion before setting foot downstairs. c and i wandered into the comedy room because i needed to sit for a while, and seating was extremely limited. we watched a couple of sets; the first comic we saw was quite funny (and i'm totally stealing two of his bits), but the second one just wasn't funny. we left the room and took the cheesy "official" photo - complete with bad cruise ship staircase background. we also took one with (a cardboard cutout of) obama, but unfortunately it didn't come out well. sad... ah, well. then we went back into the main ballroom, snagged another drink, and decided to people watch. we both love people-watching, and trust me when i say that this was one the best opportunities to do so, possibly ever.

typical non-creative heavy drinkers
the official website - as well as dc 101, the radio station that sponsored it - claimed that the event drew a "mid-to-late-twenties to mid-thirties" crowd. however, i think they lied. there were an awful lot of college kids and newly 21-year-olds there, and while that is fine and all, it just drastically changes the atmosphere; hence, all the drunken fools who couldn't walk straight even though it was only 10 pm. fun to watch, not as fun to interact with. ah, well. there were some seriously interesting people to watch, so it wasn't a total loss. because drunk college students? yeah, they do all sorts of ridiculous, embarrasing, and stupid things. like drink so much that you puke all over the floor in the middle of the hallway. (luckily i didn't witness this - unfortunately, c got that honor.) or being so oblitterated that you (a guy) try to use the women's restroom, can't understand why you're being yelled at to leave, and then fall over and can't get up so that a host of police officers and security have to go in and drag your ass out. (at least he was very cooperative and amiable. and he was hot, which was unfortunate, because the drunken stupidity totally cancelled it out.) or getting your long gown caught on the escalator and having several security and maintenance workers trying to free you without ruining your dress or making you naked. (hi, common sense: if you have a full-length skirt, you have to lift it up while on an escalator. not hard and plus they had people reminding girls of that on all floors.) there were lots of girls who clearly had not attempted moving, sitting, or even breathing in their dress before purchasing and wearing in public. either boobs were popping out while dancing, asses were hanging out, or things simply did not fit well. just... eeks. did no one teach these girls to twist, move, jump, and dance around in a dress before purchasing? because there were also the girls that clearly weren't comfortable - oh, they looked amazing, but they spent the evening standing stoically, carful not to wrinkle, bend, or take deep breaths, because they couldn't. i promise, ladies, it's possible to look awesome AND be comfortable. you should try it next time.

midnight balloon drop - we weren't here

meanwhile, it was coming up to midnight. c and i made the executive decision to stay outside the main ballroom instead of rushing in to be squished next a couple thousand drunken strangers just to watch a bunch of balloons drop. like i said, new year's is just not that big a deal for me, and besides, we were sitting down in a prime-people-watching spot. plus c's killer black and gold stillettos were starting to, well, kill her. it should be mentioned at this point that no matter how much pain c was in, she did not take her shoes off. i mean, we've all been guilty of it at one time or another, but you just don't walk barefoot around a hotel when there are open bars and people puking. you just don't take that risk. by midnight, i'd estimate that about a third of all the girls attending had taken off their shoes and were now lurching about with them in one hand and a drink in the other. there was a plethora of snagged tights and pantyhose, and these girls just didn't care anymore. some took them off and tossed them in the garbage, some continued to wear the tattered garments; one girl (and c witnessed this) had her shoes off, stepped in the puke from the previously-mentioned yakker, then - instead of immediately taking them off and scrubbing the first layer of skin from her feet - she simply ripped the bottom of the hose and rolled them up so that she had dipped-in-puke flesh-colored leggings. EW.

last thing in this installment, courtesy of c: the last-chance hook-up bathroom trolling. i swear i'm not making this up. aparently, this is the thing to do if you are a guy who, by the end of the night, has not found a girl drunk enough to sleep with you:

step one: hang out outside the women's restroom.
step two: evaluate each emerging female based on drunkeness.

step three: when you find one sufficiently intoxicated (stumbling is a good indicator) approach her casually, making it look as though you just happen to be passing by. if she's appropriated schnockered, i'm sure she won't remember seeing you on her way in.

step four: proceed to hit on her, making sure to lean on her so you can remain upright.

step five: if she is willing, lead her back to your hotel room upstairs. (and let's hope you have a hotel room, because you should really not be driving)

step six: if she is unwilling, walk away from her, mutter some choice expletives, and resume with step one.

seriously. c saw it happening while i was still rocking out with cowboy mouth, and once she pointed it out, i saw it for myself. yikes.

hopefully, most people stayed at the hotel...

Really? Eat a Cheeseburger - It Won't Kill You

look, i am no petite fleur, but i’ve never been overly obsessed with my weight. when i was younger and dancing, i had no reason to; i was not as little and skinny as most of the girls i danced with or the girls i competed against, but i was healthy, in shape, and just as talented as anyone else. i’ve always thought of myself as “average” and though my thighs may be a little jigglier than i like, or my waist not as small as it could be, it’s never really been cause for much concern on my part. even now, when various medications have caused me to hover between a size 12 and 14 – do i love that? no. would i like to be back to my customary size 10? of course. but i’m not obsessing about it. i don’t lose OR gain weight easily, so i don’t stress… it’ll come off eventually, and besides, I am physically not able to start going to the gym or anything very strenuous. (although, let’s be honest, shall we? even if i were in fantastic physical shape, i wouldn’t go to a gym – it’s just not fun. i’ll look into dance classes or yoga, but plain workouts bore me and i can’t be bothered.) my mother did weight watchers for years, successfully, but i’ve never really dieted or worried about my food intake. i just watch that i’m not eating junk all the time and eat fruits and veggies whenever i can, mostly because i like them. i’ve also never been into weighing myself, and have never personally owned a scale. i base my fitness level on how my clothes fit and how toned i am, not some digital read-out.

i bring this up because i have observed the habits of the staff at our two main offices. most of the girls in this office (the one I’m at most frequently for now) don’t have a lot of self-imposed restraint when it comes to food. they’re mostly around my age-ish (mid-twenties to early-thirties), and while they don’t munch on candy bars all day or anything, they have no problem with going out to moe’s or wendy’s or wherever for lunch. they’re all also, for the most part, of average size or smaller. i don’t really think there’s anyone much bigger than i am, and it’s not like i’m a beluga. then there’s the other office. most of these girls are in their early- to mid-twenties and they OBSESS about their weight. they are constantly talking about it: how much they’ve lost or gained, how many calories they need to burn off at the gym tonight, how much they still need to lose, and what size they are now. i would like to point out that there’s only one receptionist over there that’s my size or a little bigger – and i’ve never heard her kvetching – while the rest of them are easily a size 6 or smaller. there may be one size 8, but she’s also quite tall, so she’s perfectly in proportion. their eating habits are diabolical. if someone brings in bagels, they will only eat one half, with the thinnest possible smattering of cream cheese on top. (honestly, i don’t see how there’s enough on there to even taste, but then that’s me, and we all know i love my food.) if someone brings in donuts, they will split one between two or even three of them. or worse, they will eat only part of it and throw the rest out. and they do this with nearly everything. (i had to restrain myself from commenting when one of them nibbled around the raspberry center in a jelly donut and tossed the rest yesterday. seriously? around the raspberry jelly? that’s the best part! and most of the donut!) they’ll eat half a slice of pizza and toss the rest; or if they bring their own lunches, it’s mostly a steady stream of fat-free yogurt, fruit, or salad. i don’t have a problem with any of those food items, but when your entire intake for an 8-hour day consists of a thing of plain yogurt and half an orange, you have some issues. especially if you’re already a size 4.

i’ve been trying to determine the difference between the two groups. there is the age factor, with most of the other office just out of college, or still in it. maybe that’s part of it, or maybe it’s the atmosphere. maybe once one or two people start discussing it, everyone else feels like they should fixate on it too? i really don’t get it. life is too short to not eat ice cream (fake or otherwise) and half a pizza occasionally. and chances are that unless you have a wickedly slow metabolism or hyperactive thyroid, you really don’t need to count every calorie or measure every portion. i realize that obesity is a problem, especially in this country, but the wrong people are worried about it. the truly obese and unhealthy seem largely concerned with the maintenance of their medical problems, not the elimination of the weight, which is the cause of many of those medical problems. and the young and healthy are preoccupied with getting as thin as possible and staying that way. talk about your skewed priorities…

NYE in D.C. - A Photo Essay (Part 1 - It Starts)

i usually don’t make a big deal out of new year’s eve; mostly, this is because new year’s (much like my birthday) seems destined to suck. also, I have found that my personal new year’s eve seems to be Oct. 31 – for whatever reason, that’s when my year-long cycle seems to end, ready to start again on Nov. 1. but this year was different, and thank heavens for that. my friend c came up to visit me and we decided to go to d.c.’s official “downtown celebration” event. It was a little pricey, but it included open bars, food, a chance to dress in a theme, and – most importantly – cowboy mouth.

first up: costume design. the official dress code was “creative black tie”; they equated this to what you might wear to the mtv music awards – formal, but funkiness was encouraged. no problem. c and I headed out to the malls and such in search of appropriately fabulous attire. We weren’t exactly sure what we were looking for… we figured maybe an ethnic theme, like Chinese or Indian, or a period theme, like 20’s or 50’s. after combing potomic mills (the nation’s largest outlet mall), we found ourselves at a loss. we really didn’t want to spend a lot, and we also didn’t want cookie-cutter formal wear. then we stumbled across a random kiosk in the middle of the mall. a lovely woman of indeterminate asian decent was selling a mix of Chinese and middle eastern clothing and accessories. c found a lovely read Chinese dress, and I found a fantastical black scarf-like thingie with bright pink embroidery and sequins. and so we had our themes: c’s was “asian” and mine became “bollywood.” c found a pair of kick-ass black and gold heels, gold jewelry, and a sparkly red flower to wear in her hair. oh, and a fan (hey, we're all about props). i found a pink corset, long black skirt, and silver jewelry. we were set.

c, the asian princess me in my bollywood finery

a creative jacket choice (the only)

of course, we were two of only four people (out of a few thousand) who new how to interpret "creative black tie." everyone else was wearing general mall-bought cocktail-wear. i mean, there were a few really fabulous formal dresses and some equally fantabulous shoes, but for the most part, it was a sea of unimaginative party-goers. (sidebar: while there were several amazing shoe choices, not one of the girls who chose them could walk in them. they all walked around like truck drivers, or like first-time stilt-walkers, or 5-year-olds playing dress up in their mother's shoes. just disgraceful. it's not that hard, people. and if you can't walk in them, don't wear them, the end.) so we stuck out, but it's not like we're not used to that. it was a good kind of sticking-out, anyway, because people came up to us all night, telling us how awesome we looked and how hot we were. always good for the ego...

a pre-party starbucks (note the wristband)

apparently - and we've noticed this before - when c and i are out in public together, we seem to attract the freaks. seriously, it's like we both have one-half of a neon sign that says "come talk to us, freaky people!" that combines and lights up when we're together. it's like the bad wonder-twin power. it started in line. when we arrived downtown and parked, we found ourselves almost two (nyc) blocks away. seeing as it was below freezing, and we were wearing skirts and heels, we took a cab to the hyatt. yes, my friends, we were those people. we entered the hotel, picked up our event tickets, went through the registration - where they proceeded to brand us with a florescent orange wristband (really? it's black tie and you're just going to ruin the effect with day-glo jewelry?) - and had a pre-party starbucks before we were let in. as 8:30 approached, we went to stand in (a ridiculously long) line to head down the escalator to the main party areas. enter becky.

becky was a pert little 23-year-old who had obviously been to a very generous pre-party. she started by telling us how hot we looked and how no one else was as creative as us (well, duh), and insinuated herself in line with us. of course, she hadn't gotten her wristband yet, so she needed to be in another line altogether, but it took a while to convince her of that. becky had apparently come with some neighbors of hers, and although she was technically there with a guy, she had somehow found him lacking and had ditched him. before they had even gotten in to the party. we lost her as we went downstairs and she had to get her

wristband, but she appeared behind us in line for the coat check. she then - rambling drunkenly - proceeded to follow us around while we were checking out the venues. there was a sports bar/karaoke bar, a ballroom set up to be a club, a comedy room, and the stage venue where cowboy mouth and two other bands would perform. set up in both the stage and club areas were buffets of nibbly things, and bars were set up throughout the three (yes, three) levels of the hotel that were being used. halfway through the club area, and heading into our second drinks, we somehow lost becky, and i can't say that i was that sad about it. i mean, she was completely entertaining at first, but after a while, it kinda felt like my annoying little sister had decided to tag along. anyway, with that presence gone, we decided to hit the food tables and chow down.

to be continued....

c and becky, in line