I think I'm getting sick today. The weekend was party-heavy. Blind items abound.
Which drunken reveler took off his pants on Saturday nite -- permanently, it seemed -- to reveal a very small pair of leopard-print briefs? Which female attendee then grabbed his leopard-clad package? Which otherwise-stellar host was displaying six of my books on her bookshelf? (Rather than steal them back, I pulled each one about an inch out from the shelf in silent protest -- I wonder if she noticed the next day.) Which annoying but generous nerd did we follow into the bathroom for coke every five minutes, then subsequently ignore on the dance floor? In non-party news, which infrequent emailer do I wish would write me back? Which loose-cannon-about-town has been threatening to kick my ass? & which Tops checkout person have I decided is hot?
Sorry. That last one wasn't very juicy. & he isn't even that hot. I just didn't want to leave off with the ass-kicking item. It seemed ominous somehow, ending it that way.
