I am all kinds of exhausted right now. Jet lag, cold and just plain tired. We got back from California at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m. The guy in the window seat of our row felt the need to excessively explain every time he had to get up. It's the redeye, jackass! We all just want to sleep, especially after the heavy amounts of drinking and celebrating which took place this weekend. On the train back from the airport, these horribly dressed Business People kept hemming and hawing about the train running late. I wanted to throttle them, but instead it made for a fun walk home with Mike, mocking the Business People who had an Important Presentation who were going to miss their Amtrak train.

California was lovely -- sunshiney and full of wine and food. The ceremony was beautiful, and you have to love that "Letter to Memphis" was played as JT and D shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

The reception was a wild drunken undertaking that was followed by shots of the "dirty bird" at a bar in downtown Healdsburg, aka Disneyland of Wine Country. The place has a fucking HAND FAN museum. You read that correctly. "Hand fan!" became one of the catchphrases of the weekend.

After the afterparty we didn't hit the hotel lobby, but we did break into the hot tub. Party girl props go to the bride's best friend, who went in the hot IN HER DRESS. "I didn't like it that much!" she explained, "Plus the wedding's over..." We spent much time in the hot tub, which just caused me and robotpolisher to perform our best Eddie Murphy impression.

The next day a hungover crew of college pals met with the rest of the wedding folks still around for brunch. I could barely eat my chicken caesar salad, but we ate, wore sunglasses and laughed about our fun weekend together.

Then, achren, sju, sassy and the aforementioned robo caravaned to San Francisco in achren's car while Mike and I kicked it in the Early Bird Special, the nickname I gave our Buick Century, the old man car we rented.

A pit stop in Santa Rosa changed my life. We inadvertently took the exit for the Charles Schulz Museum! I paid for everyone to get in, since well, this here diary itself is one big Peanuts reference. I saw the Kite Eating Tree, a holographic bird bath (don't ask!) and a shitload of comic strips. We all indulged our childhood consumerist tendencies. I am now the proud owner of a Lucy refrigerator magnet that says, "I'm no longer a fussbudget, now I'm just plain ornery!" I also have a baseball shirt with Lucy on it. Inner child satiated, even if she didn't get to eat at the Warm Puppy Cafe.

Back on the road, robo and I text-messaged each other about stupid shit. We got to San Francisco, hit the Lush store and spent some time at Fisherman's Wharf (eww, my ichthyphobia says). Then we all headed to our respective airports and left for our respective homes.

I spent the weekend 3,000 miles away with several of my nearest and dearest friends. Way too warm and fuzzy. I noted to sju how weird it was that the five of us were on a bus in a city that none of us lived in hanging out. It was sort of like college, but so much better. I will stop being emo now. And I'm sure other folks will have much more interesting stories.