I know excellent people: both Gracie and Bex sent this picture to me during the night, to make sure I saw it:

I LOVE YOU ADAM LAMBERT, PLEASE CONTINUE TO PLAY DRESSUPS AS A ROCKSTAR VAMPIRE FOREVER.
Uh, what else... Erinna won't agree with me on the theory that going to an Insane Clown Posse show is practically obligatory if the opportunity arises in one's life. I pointed out that Thursday all agree with me, and she said that Thursday didn't count which is essentially blasphemy, so she is wrong.
So then I asked HeyChris his opinion on the matter, as we were wandering the city of Melbourne in the same large pack of excellent people as him at the time, in search of food (we ended up at Grill'd, who make the best veggie burgers of all time, even better than Lord of the Fries YEAH I SAID IT WHATCHA GONNA DO ABOUT IT), and Chris agreed with me so suck it, Erinna, being surrounded by juggalos remains a valid future life choice.
Chris was a fantastic speaker, as he was last time, though there's a distressingly high urine content involved in hanging out with that dude (something I also already knew from last time). He and his biffle Pete Wentz originally bonded over their shared love of peeing on the pile of coats found in spare rooms at parties. He keeps my zine Sharpest on his bedside table but, as Megan pointed out, said bedside table also features bottles for him to wee into so he doesn't have to get out of bed at night. You know, I don't feel I say often enough that BOYS ARE GROSS.
Except you, Adam Lambert. I'm sure you don't have piss bottles beside your bed.
It was a lovely weekend, though. I got to see a bunch of friends I don't see nearly often enough, due to distance or to hectic work schedules, and catching up with them always makes me feel brighter.
Today I will put down the bond payment for the new apartment, yaaaaaaaay. Then I'm seeing the not-so-wee babysitting charge briefly before her hip-hop class, as our scheduled hanging out later in the week has to be put off due to me getting the chance to see another bunch of friends I don't see nearly often enough. Social lives are hard! I want an assisstant. Man, being personal assisstant to Mary Borsellino would be the
worst job in the world, seriously.
Oh HEY HEY, before I go off to attempt to pack for moving (why oh why oh why do I have so much stuff, ugh),
have you voted for me yet? Go do that!