(no subject)

Oh also, in case you were wondering, outside of fanfic writing I have indeed lost my mind. Just, so you know.

I actually engaged in a moment of emotional honesty with my mother, the result of which I'm still waiting for in horror. Those never turn out well. Even as I was doing it I could hear my 17-year-old self screaming have you learned nothing in ten years?

I am very much on the brink of chucking the whole housing thing and getting some tiny studio flat in Wrigleyville and never talking to anyone ever again.

NB: *sigh* Don't freak out, I'm okay, but if I don't vomit all this stuff here then I'm just going to vomit it on Bulletproof Temp who totally doesn't need this shit right now.

(no subject)

The gumbo seems to be going over well, and there are...a lot of fruity drinks floating around. I haven't got the fortitude to commit to one, so I just take sips out of everyone's glasses as I feel like it. So far we've had weak margaritas, Cantaloupe A Go Go, and Berry Surprise (the surprise is the seeds).

There's also bacardi-marinated fruit salad, courtesy of Bluesman's girlfriend (the one with twelve kids). All is forgiven.

(no subject)

So R, Bluesman and his girlfriend, Ratpacker, and The Lesbians and I went out on the porch for a while and when we came back in FIFTEEN NEW PEOPLE had shown up and were having a whole nother party in the kitchen.

I am not equipped to nickname this many people.

There was also a dog.

And some pizza!

*sets out leftover gumbo, boozy fruit salad*

Knkock yourselves out, guys. I'm going to bed. Everyone else is going to...somewhere. To sing karaoke. Pray that no deaths occur.