25th Hour

Did you want to hang out with me yesterday? Probably. It's not that I didn't want to, but everyone and their mothers asked for a spot in my dance cards yesterday (before they ditch me lonesome for the rest of the summer). I have not been this popular since I invented krumping nearly two decades ago.

First, there was lunch with my fellow school interns, where we discussed when it is ever appropriate to "drop the 'H' Bomb." (Never. Except to spite nemeses.)

Then I had coffee with The Woman Who Taught Me English (i.e. The Woman Who Taught Me How To Pwn Your Sorry Self in Boggle). We hadn't seen each other in 14 years. And then we did. Coffee was followed by appetizers with two groups of unrelated friends. Of all the gin joints in all the world, both Gak and Matty O chose the downtown P.F. Chang last night, a mere 30 minutes apart. So I made like it was Thorne and volleyed between tables (appropriate, too, that I was with my old Thorne buddies and we were having bad Chinese).

By the time 'dinner' rolled around, it was 11pm. By the time TChu and Ranwei rolled around, I'd already explained to the waitress 4 times that yes, my friends were joining me. Dinner consisted of a cocktail, potato chips, and raw tuna. It may not have been classy, but those were the three best prepared things I'd eaten all day. And I'd do the craziness all over again just for another taste.