Been back from the gather for a while, now, but I had a hard time tearing myself away from the television until just now. I couldn't think of any reason to really be online until I thought about this damned journal and that there's a reason I haven't been writing in it in the past few days and that's because things have been happening.

Now, I don't mean this in a way to imply that things have been happening, just that...well, I've been out.

Let's recount.

We will preface this by saying that my decision to hang over at The House on Thursday night was a sort of mistake. This is not to say that I didn't have a great time or that I didn't have fun while I was there; just that I probably should have gone home that night. Of course, I say that now and I realise that things probably wouldn't have worked out the way that they did this weekend and that thigns could have gone very differently, but...well, I like to think that my original plan for how this weekend was going to come down would have flown. As it was, it didn't because I didn't really think about the next day and just didn't expect anything to actually get complicated.

This is what one gets for forgetting how life actually works.

So...the practical upshot being that I missed what should have been a marginally interesting birthday get-together for someone I tend to rather like. Then, I missed the hang-out the next day for the same reason.

This is why I need to stop second-guessing myself. Every time I reconsider my position, I seem to fuck something up.

So...my apologies to the birthday girl; I fucked it up. Still got your present, though.

Anyway...I did finally make it back late Saturday night/Sunday morning and took my sweet time getting the hell to sleep only to be awakened just a little too soon for Erik's Oscar party. Not that I'm complaining, but I could have stood an extra hour of lounging in bed. Still, I left the phone on for a reason, so hey. The point is, forty five minutes later I'm waiting for the Laker game to end so we can watch the Academy Awards on the big screen in the rec room. Luck befalls and it happens. Preparations are made, chips munched, cheese-sticks baked, time passes. Guests arrive. Beer is consumed, awards are awarded, time passes. The second wave of guests arrive. A beautiful singing redhead arrives with much alcohol and a thin raven-haired beauty who explained to me how they knew each other in a manner I've managed to completely forget, now. In any event, liquor is consumed, cigarettes are smoked, awards are awarded, liquor is consumed, cigarettes are smoked and awards are awarded. The roommates arrive. Repeat last bit. The party is getting tipsy and night rages on. Finally, the awards end. The black folk make a good showing, but Moulin Rouge is effectively snubbed. We're all pissed and go upstairs to watch the movie that didn't get anything more than a fucking costuming award.

Motherfuckers.

So we go up. Discussions are had, many of which I was not privy to. More liquor is imbibed and the women still won't have sex with each other, though at least the blonde was willing to get mostly naked. She's cool like that.

Oh, and we watched the movie. I keep forgetting how short it actually is. I could explain why Moulin Rouge is a great film, but I'm not really very good at that sort of thing. What I will say is that part of the reason is that it takes a rather worn and well-trod concept as it's plot and spins it so fucking right-round with amazing visuals and all sorts of cool, clever shit that it's just kickass. Rico said that every time he watches it, he discovers something new. I think he maybe doesn't pay as close attention to it 'cause he's so enamoured with the fucking thing, but I don't tell him that because he wouldn't understand and just deny it. Besides, he hasn't said that in ages and I think he's finally gotten everything out of it, now.

But yeah...the upshot of all of this is that I had my last drink four hours ago and I'm still not quite kosher for going to bed. Damn those shots of Southern Comfort...without Squirt, no less.