![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
This was the party theme last night, although few people other than the host and hostess were wearing kilts.
I spent too much time talking to Dave, a friend of a co-worker of mine, trying to defend FLLW. (a) It's the bloody weekend and (b) I should have just walked away when someone is cutting me off while I'm trying to talk. Not that it was a bad thing, just saying. One of Dave's friends is close to finishing his Ph.D. in Comparative Literature. Yeah, you can razz all you want, but that's some big heap time cool shit. And then I got into another discussion prompted by WI-C mentioning the book Schroedinger's Cat. It's nice to get that at a party sometimes. A little brain food.
The cops came by a little after 10 pm for noise reasons. That's the first time since college that's happened, but I was thinking more about high school, and the impulse was, "RUN!!! It's the COPS!!!" But then I realized I wasn't doing anything wrong, and I was holding in my hand a completely legal substance. It was an odd moment, this impulse banging up against total rationality. Anyway, they told the host to keep the noise down, and the music was brought into the garage.
Happy to note that Bruce wasn't there, although that's a whole segment of entertainment I didn't get to experience.
I know I got to that point where sober/tired cross (this is the point at which I am sober, but I'm strating to get so tired that if I don't leave soon, driving will be just as bad as driving drunk). I was thinking this morning that I have to get better at that. It's legal what I'm doing, driving sober, but it's not the smartest thing I could be doing (driving really tired). So, I have to rethink my drinking policy for parties.
Oh, and I got a lot of compliments from WI-C for looking like a hotty. That's always good when you get the desired effect. And I got proper appreciation from mda.
Well, scary piles of dishes await.
I spent too much time talking to Dave, a friend of a co-worker of mine, trying to defend FLLW. (a) It's the bloody weekend and (b) I should have just walked away when someone is cutting me off while I'm trying to talk. Not that it was a bad thing, just saying. One of Dave's friends is close to finishing his Ph.D. in Comparative Literature. Yeah, you can razz all you want, but that's some big heap time cool shit. And then I got into another discussion prompted by WI-C mentioning the book Schroedinger's Cat. It's nice to get that at a party sometimes. A little brain food.
The cops came by a little after 10 pm for noise reasons. That's the first time since college that's happened, but I was thinking more about high school, and the impulse was, "RUN!!! It's the COPS!!!" But then I realized I wasn't doing anything wrong, and I was holding in my hand a completely legal substance. It was an odd moment, this impulse banging up against total rationality. Anyway, they told the host to keep the noise down, and the music was brought into the garage.
Happy to note that Bruce wasn't there, although that's a whole segment of entertainment I didn't get to experience.
I know I got to that point where sober/tired cross (this is the point at which I am sober, but I'm strating to get so tired that if I don't leave soon, driving will be just as bad as driving drunk). I was thinking this morning that I have to get better at that. It's legal what I'm doing, driving sober, but it's not the smartest thing I could be doing (driving really tired). So, I have to rethink my drinking policy for parties.
Oh, and I got a lot of compliments from WI-C for looking like a hotty. That's always good when you get the desired effect. And I got proper appreciation from mda.
Well, scary piles of dishes await.
