Everything I Like Causes Cancer

At Homecoming this year I overheard the Chicago faction of our group discussing getting together sometime over the holidays for dinner and drinks, which you all know are two of my favorite things. My pathetic pouting, which may or may not have included kicking up some dust, eventually garnered an invite.

We started emailing each other over a month ago and by the time plans were finalized I had been given roundtrip airfare and a place to stay in what is, at least to me, a trendy neighborhood in the city. I've said it before, but it can't be said enough: my friends rock.

So, Saturday it is. Saturday morning I will jet off like the little socialite I dream of growing up to be. I leave STL about 12:30 and land in Chicago about 1:30 and I am so psyched.

Do you guys remember my friend Steve? The one who helped me party with the Queen of the Gay Rodeo? He and I had a discussion about the trip this week that went something like this:

S: So I can't tell that one story about you* to all the others?

Me: No. You know that three jack-and-cokes in I'll tell it on myself. I just want to be afforded the courtesy of telling it on my terms.

S: Damn. I was really hoping to spring it on you so I could see Riesling come out your nose.

Me: Oh, c'mon. You know that's spontaneous after four drinks anyway. I have to tell you this whole trip makes me feel so cosmopolitan - having my friends jet me in and out of Chicago for a party, meeting them for afternoon cocktails, getting all dolled up and partying downtown until we fall over. Until, of course, I think about it realistically: I am flying the weekend before Christmas so that y'all can make me laugh so hard I spray acidic beverages out my nose and shit myself. Whee!

Speaking of getting dolled up . . . I am taking these as my primary shoe choice for the night on the town. I want to take all my remaining meals out of these shoes except that it would keep me from actually wearing them. As far as you know, anyway.

I'm wearing some sort of black number - not sure which one but Leslie, my very own personal fashionista, is coming over tonight to have a drink and help me decide.

I am taking these boots (the black ones) as back-up in case I find we have to do A LOT of walking or if the weather is bad.

I intend to post something about it all when I get home Sunday evening, but that all depends on the name, rank, and serial number of my hangover on Sunday. Wish me Godspeed.


* You can assume that if I am controlling it's dissemination among people in my terrestrial life, I'm not telling the Internets. Yet. I always spill it all in the end. Just be patient.