Vogue, Damn You, Vogue
Why, oh why, does every party attended by theater people end with somebody popping in "The Immaculate Collection?" I swear, this is like my signal to go home every single time. Because whereas I do know the Madonna songs in question, I have SO little desire to dance to them. And the fact that it's somehow de rigeur for attention-seeking theater people makes it even worse. Oh, man, am I getting crotchety?
Anyway, the reason I mention this is that I went to a party A BLOCK AWAY from my apartment. It was awesome. I mean, the party was okay (I didn't know anybody really, except for my friend Steph and her friends Logan & Laura) but then when it was over, I just walked ONE BLOCK and then I was home. It was the most convenient party ever. Not much to say about the party really aside from that, though the big highlight was that there was no tequila - so me and Steph tried to make up for that by labeling as many things as possible "tequila." So some Toasteds crackers became tequila, some cookies were written on to read "tequila" and there is, as we speak, a bottle of olive oil in the freezer that was labeled tequila. I hope they find it soon and don't think that somebody made off with their olive oil.
Final cool thing: they had a papasan sofa. It was awesome. I had to repeatedly get up out of it to prevent getting stuck in there. It was really easy to just sit down and never want to get up again. Dangerous! Yet comfy. Puts my papasan to shame.