You didn't let me down, man purse, and I appreciate it. Last night was HO's birthday party, and my first formal introduction to much of his Jersey trash family. They were fantastic. The mixed drinks (including Cosmos, huzzah!) were flowing, the hors d'oeuvres were delicious, the company was entertaining, and the atmosphere was delightful.
I went to nation for the first time and danced my little heart away. The mo's were much more liberal with where they'd put their hands during the dancing, but let's be honest. I'm taking it where I can get it. And one friend accidentally stuck his finger up my nose whilst trying to grab my head to talk into my ear, so technically, I had intercourse last night. Bully for me.
So all of my new party friends are lovely, and I had a jolly good time. However, I realized that I haven't missed coming home dizzy and reeking of smoke these past few months. I guess I'm not a clubber at heart after all. But according to all the homos, I have a beatiful rack. See? It all evens out in the end.
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