This weekend was so damn good that I don't even want to write about it. I spent it hanging out with old friends, new friends and rock and rollers. I skipped the second half of my conference to start the party early. All told, I was drinking for 12 hours straight on Saturday.

I surprised this gal at work on Saturday and we devolved into a drunken search for karaoke at the bar down the street. "Karaoke" seemed to mean "home Karaoke machine with three discs featuring songs none of us had heard of." The near-end of the evening featured images like this one. Putting the ass in class people, that's what we're doing.

Sunday was Mike's and my 8-year anniversary, and we saw each other for a grand total of about 15 minutes. (He had a fancy celeb-filled seder to work at.) I stayed at the former apartment and hung out with EB and his dog. I have finally seen Beat Street. That movie is no Breakin' or even a Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo.

My exhausted ass was dragged to the East Village to see MZ for the first time in months. We oohed and aahed over each other's engagement rings and discussed the hell that is wedding planning.

After, I met up with 'Stiner and Toby and hit the JV show at Southpaw. Man, every time I see him it just gets better. I met a bunch of groovy folks and drank some more. I told JV about his strong resemblance to Mr. Love, one of my nearest and dearest. We drunk-dialed Molly (me, Steph and Toby), and then I had to call it a night. My fiance arrived with the car and we headed back to Philly. I was home at 3:15 and up at 9 to start my day.

I am still exhausted, and I have a ton of work to do. I may have to call in sick.