quesarah | Then the monkeys fly out of my butt

Ack. Had a weekend that left me badly in need of another RIGHT NOW. Friday was a 12 hour day; got some spiffy new highlights in the hair and had a fun chat with my stylist. She turns stereotypes on their ear, being one of the few lesbian hairstylists I've ever met. She is fab; she does great hair and is also a blast to talk to. I listened to the latest installment of the Melodrama that is Her Love Life and made appropriate groany noises. We swapped gaybashing stories; fun, that.

Saturday was a slug day, and that evening I went out with the boys. There was beer, a wee bit of karaoke, some foosball, and lots of talk about women's asses. Good night. As I promised the missus, I had no whiskey (only beer) and was home at a reasonable hour.

Sunday we had the practice session for

wafflelips' interview. I had no idea what was happening; it may as well have been conducted in Latin. I think I faked it all right, though. It seemed to be productive.

Rehearsal on Sunday was a bust. I usually count on choir practice to energize me for the coming week; lately it's been nothing but an energy drain. I was already dog tired, and by the end I was completely zonked. Had to get out and go home to my girl. She and I curled up on the couch and were vegetables for the night. Necessary.

Today I want nothing more than to be sitting in living room, wearing sweats, eating junk food, and playing Knights of the Old Republic all day. Dude, I swear that one Jedi is hitting on me. She totally wants me. Oh yeah.