Now that I've gotten the Vegas recaps out of the way, I'm free to waste this space with my drunken ramblings. Yes, it's summertime again and that means its DRUNKEN ENTRY TIME!!!!

Let's see, I've decided to take a job at Lane Bryant for half the money I was making at my last job, simply to keep myself from slitting my wrists. We'll see how long it takes for me to feel like drawing a piping hot bath again.

I'm, of course, newly reobsessed with Clay Aiken since his appearance on the Jimmy Kimmel Live show. Gotta love a man who is willing to pretend to beat up another man for laughs.

I'm a little depressed at the prospect of taking that crappy job (like you didn't notice), but hopefully my new mantra of "Some money is better than no money" will take hold, come next Tuesday.

This past weekend, Joe and I planned a party at the Madison Heights fireworks. It went swimmingly. Joe, Nichole, Troy, Tina, John, Leah, Randy, Deanna, Cindy and sometimes Don showed up. There was too much food, including two kinds of pasta salad and POUND CAKE! It was stupendous to be with all my old friends. It felt like high school but with beer. And money. Sometimes I miss the close comeraderie I had in school. Not to the point that I think that there's nothing better ahead of me, but, to the point that I value those I still keep in contact with greatly. We played catch with a frisbee and football, and for the first time in a really long time, I felt myself. There in a dress, with shorts underneath, a bad tanline and a case of acne, I felt natural. I was playing catch with the boys. Laughing at Joe trying to catch Troy's ever farther passes; feeling mildly self-conscious when John said that if you threw the ball low, you could see my cleavage. It's just fun to be the only girl in a group of guys. That seems to be my niche. Maybe I should host orgies or something...

Tonight, I went out with Tiger and Leah to Third Street for half-price pizza and beer. We all sang along to Journey songs and got progressively drunk. We listened to the fucking awesome rock-a-billy trio that plays great Johnny Cash and Buddy Holly covers. I bummed a smoke off of Big Mama, who sings with the band occasionally on blues numbers. I kept fixating on the fat bass player and drunkenly thinking how sparkly his eyes were, and how kind and open his face was, and then being embarrassed by it. That's what I get for being drunk on Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Later,