Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


She's ba-a-a-a-ack!

Not me. G. Monkey. She finally called last night, after I had convinced myself that "really, if something bad would have happened, her dad would have called me" and was OK with just talking to her voicemail daily (well, the lady who tells me that my call was directed to an automatic voicemail system). But at least she's back!

She sounds good, and she got her admission letter from "prestigious ivy league school" so she's definitely IN for grad school, and will attend in the summer. We're going out tonight, and she's going to meet P tomorrow, and she's going to come with me on Monday when we do a little "I need a quesadilla/hummus platter, a martini, and a laugh" whingding after work, with lots of ladies from the Giganto-Mega-Hospital.

(Assuming, of course, that she is feeling up to all of this, and today's visit from her mother doesn't go awry. Her mother can bite me, but that's just me.)

In other news: I have a week to find a pair of pretty, reasonably painless slingbacks or kitten heeled not-too-pointy-toed slides that will not cost a kidney (or even a skin graft) for a little wingding. I've been invited to the "Local arm of a drug conglomerate" Annual Dinner Dance, as P's mom has 2 extra tickets at her disposal. I think it'll be a lot of fun. I just want to be able to enjoy the "dance" part (hence the not excessively painful, wide enough for my box-feet request). Whee!

Sometime this weekend? There will be photos!

Monday at the latest...
Or Tuesday.


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