You can tell you're getting older when...

... a sex toy party ends with half of the guests crowded around a computer, watching one person play World of Warcraft. And even worse, they've all got characters and are actually dying to leave the party and go home to play.

*Giggle*

Anyway, the party was fun. On the whole, I'm not great in social situations where I don't know many people, so I always feel a little awkward at first. But everyone there was outgoing and completely cool, and I ended up being dragged into the excitement. AND I bought something.

But I'm not telling you what.

Neh neh neh boo boo. =P

Procratinatory

It's 1:00 in the afternoon, and I've just eaten a bowl of corn pops (my first meal of the day). I should be cleaning my apartment, but since I don't actually feel like doing that just yet, I figured it would be a good time to blog.

So. I'm going to a sex toy party tonight. Now, since unless you're the one person I know who reads this blog, you probably don't know much about me. Therefore, I will let you in on a little secret: I am SO not a sex-toy-party type person. I mean, granted, I'm 27 years old, and obviously not totally naive when it comes to sex, but throw toys into the equation, and I don't have a clue. Just looking at pictures of vibrators makes my cheeks go red. So, why, you ask, am I putting myself through the embarassment of a sex toy party? Well... two reasons actually.

1. Brian asked me to go. Brian is my best friend, and is going through a hard time right now, and I would do pretty much anything for him.
2. I'm actually kind of curious about the whole thing.

So there you have it.

And now, if you'll excuse me... I have some cleaning to do. Yay.

Utterly famous

I walked into Shea's office today, to meet her for lunch. Because I haven't been to her workplace since it was renovated, I wasn't sure where her new office space was, and had to go to the receptionist to ask. Upon seeing me, the receptionist immediately pulled out a month-old newspaper that featured my (terrible, unfortunately) picture on the front page, and proceeded to ask me to sign it. Yes, for real.

Now, people, I assure you, I am SO not famous. I am a small (and when I say small, I mean a population of 17,000 or so) city library assistant. I'm not well known for anything, and I only happened to be in the paper because my boss needed someone to pose in the garden behind the library, pretending to be using a laptop. Other than that, you wouldn't know me from Adam.

But whatever. The receptionist said she wouldn't take me to find my sister until I signed, so away I signed. Sweet, but just a tad bit weird.

When she finally DID bring me to my sister, we went on to have a lovely lunch with Jenni at a nearby restaurant.

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Because I work for a city, we have a safety board (comprised of one person from each city department) that meets monthly to discuss accidents that may have occurred during the past month, which required the doling out of workman's comp. Generally, my boss gets to attend the meetings, but since he was away at a conference yesterday, and since he knows how I feel about these meetings, he kindly asked me to take his place.

I don't know what it is about other people's misery, but I love hearing about it. I don't even care about the voting it preventable or non-preventable. I just want to hear who got hurt, how it happened, and just how bad the injury was.

I think there's something wrong with me.

Spoooooky

Trick-or-treating kicked my ass. Who knew you could be so tired after just walking around a neighborhood with a couple of kids for an hour? The children in question, though, had an awesome time. The princess insisted on wearing the shoes that came with her costume, and a half hour into trick-or-treating, she had given up on them and was walking around in her tights.

But it was the little man whose behavior indicated when it was time to go home. I realized he was getting punchy when he started yelling, "Thank you LORD!" at every single house we went to.

Oh, to be 4 years old again.

NaBloPoMo Extravaganza

First off, Happy Halloween! The little ones an I will be out in all our firefighter/Tinkerbell/kitty (if I can find the cat ears that should be stored in a box SOMEWHERE, that is) glory. Here's to safe trick-or-treating and sugar-induced comas!

Second, I've just signed up for National Blog Posting Month (or NaBloPoMo, for those in the know). I'm not sure WHY I did, since there's only one person who reads my blog, but for some reason I felt compelled to sign up anyway. Here's hoping I can stick with it.

Here, kitty kitty kitty.

So I want to get a cat.

Like, really, really badly. I've ALWAYS been a cat person; there was a cat in the house before I was born, and we were never without at least one kitty the whole time I was growing up. I miss that. A lot.

The problem? I live in an apartment where pets are not allowed. *Sigh*

I'm sooo thinking about sneaking one in.

Soon.

<3

Have a good day

My best friend Brian and I have come to a scary conclusion: When he's happy and lucky in love, I am not. And when I'm having a great day, he tends to be having a horrible one.

This can change on a day-to-day basis, but it's a fairly reliable system. For instance, Saturday, I was feeling down-in-the-dumps, and spent most of the day feeling sorry for myself. But Brian? He was on cloud 9, enjoying family time and just having a lovely day. Sunday, though, the tables turned, and while I had a great time with the kids, Brian was depressed.

So this morning, we talked on our way to work and school, and our conversation ended like this:

Brian: Well, I'm almost as school so I'm gonna go call M at work...
Me: Ok... good luck.
Brian: Yeah. Thanks. Have a good day.
Me: You too.
Brian: (with a not-so-happy sounding laugh) Ok. And if I start having a better day, I'll call to make sure you're ok.

Oy. One of these days, we're BOTH going to be happy. At the same time! For now though, maybe it needs to be this way so the cheerful person can cheer the sad one up.