My coworker made a McDonald's run, and for some reason I felt this incredible urge to have a happy meal. The six piece McNuggets didn't make me particularly happy, but the Little Mermaid barrette (I'm wearing it as I type) made me very happy.
The party I was sweating went well last night. I'm in a very male-dominated business (gay porn), and the guys loved the fresh flowers, jazz/blues, and slides from my company's 90+ year past reflecting hugely on a wall. We had a local cable TV station here and I thought they were sending an interviewer along with the camerman. No such luck. So it was me acting like Diane Sawyer, asking my boss questions, with both of us trying not to laugh. I kept saying, you're going to edit this, right? RIGHT? Hilarious. Everything went by super fast, so I never had any time to drink even water until an hour past when it was supposed to end (My brother called this morning, worried that I didn't keep my no drinking pledge. He was geniunely nervous.) No worries. One and a half beers, some entertaining banter with customers, and I was on my way home.
Is this the Land of Lincoln, or the Land of Gutting Pregnant Women and Taking their Babies? You can hardly swing a dead cat around in this state without hitting an honor box holding a newspaper with the headline: PREGNANT WOMAN GUTTED, FETUS MIA. Enough of these stories. I'm starting to miss the old days when the news media was super obsessed with pit bull attacks.