Well, my dears, tonight was a much lower key night (or has been so far - I hold out hope) than last night. First, A. and I kind of blew our collective wad with the madness of last night and second, everybody can fuck right off because the phones have remained silent and the email in-boxes and even the comment boxes on this here blog have remained virtually empty. This may be because we were utterly horrifying to all last night. For this, we apologize.
So we had our gluttonous feast of Combos, pizza, and strawberry shortcake ice cream bars, and we drank a little (as opposed to a lot of) wine, and we watched some season 3 of Sex and the City. Oh, and we sent a couple or three of text messages, with less response than we might have liked, and A. was falling asleep and so now she has gone to bed and I have taken it upon myself to do some end-of-night blogging.
Can I just say, this weekend has been exactly what I needed. Aside from the idiocy and aside from the stupidity of the fact that we both allowed ourselves in the 21st century to get sunburns, we've had some real quality time. I love VPW 2007.
Except that A.'s Accidental Husband hasn't contacted her at all today (lame) even though she sent a sad apologetic text after she got off the phone with him last night (which of course, she didn't remember) - this text, incidentally, went something like, "sorry I was a bit drunk on the phone, which is true" which I think is hilarious, as what was true - the apology or the fact that she was drunk - but yeah, he's not been in touch. I feel like that has something to do with the fact that he's going to go with his M.O., which is all "right place, right time, last call," which means he'll get in touch around 2:30 AM.
The one person who has provided us with the necessary attention and encouragement even still was not really adequate, but, as we've taken to awarding an Emotional Cave-Dweller of the Day award of late, this person is the default winner. Even though I feel like this person is currently getting a lap-dance, which should mean he is disqualified from the ECD award. Obviously this is not somebody whose attentions my sweet friend A. would entertain. If A.H. calls tonight, though, and if he's sweet, then he may be a come-from-behind winner of the ECD award.
Annoying. We just received a call on A.'s cell phone but it's Vision Board Sister, which is not the kind of attention we seek. She didn't even really call to talk to us, but rather to talk about some "businessman" whom she met at some stupid fund raiser who asked for her phone number. LAME. That's the problem with VBS - she is a victim of the penis power, and she has not embraced the vagina power.
So anyway, we are lame, but the point here is that even as we are lame, we are cooler than most people. That's just the fun of us. And maybe people can't hang - maybe they are horrified by our vagina power. But who are we to judge? I mean, really. It's not easy to hang with A. and Crazy. Not at all. I mean, we're both pretty nutso. Especially in combination. So the plan for tomorrow is more maxing and relaxing, and I think it shall be fabulous.
Oh, and you may be wondering which Sex and the City figures with which we feel we identify. Sadly, I fear that I am most like Miranda. And that is not something I like admitting. A. fears that she is most like Charlotte. She doesn't relish the idea of this either. We're such nerds. However, we watched the episode in Season 3 that was about Carrie going out with a bisexual guy and she went to this party with him where he and his friends were all, "Let's play spin the bottle" and we feel those kind of people are sexual nerds, and while we may be nerdy, at least we are not sexual nerds. So there.
So Sex and the City is still on in the background - still Season 3 - and Aidan just told Carrie to "be good" upon leaving for some work trip. Can I just say how much I hate it when a dude tells me to "be good"? It makes me want to, to paraphrase Ryan Adams, steal all his records and fuck all his friends. "Be good" is such a fucked up thing to say to an equal. Just saying.
I do, however, like it when a boy calls me "pretty girl" as an appellation. I am a mass of contradictions.
By the way, I may have a sunburn (though only a fucked up one based on failure to reapply sunscreen, so not a full-body sunburn and not in any way a "go take a bath in vinegar" sort of sunburn), but the highlights in my hair look FABULOUS.