December 30, 1998.

What a wonderful party last night!

I almost didn't make it off the couch, truth be told. Right after I came back from the supermarket, I lay down to watch the Simpsons. Biiiiig mistake...I crashed & hard. At 7 p.m. I gave up the struggle & decided to sleep...but my cold is disturbingly mercurial, meaning that a nap fixed me up proper. Besides, you don't miss a birthday party. That's just bad social behavior.

But of course, Scott & Stacy had to be born on the Night of the Ice Storm. And I had to wear high heels. Fortunately, the only casualty was my beloved umbrella - which turned into a spectacular mess and a wonderful conversation piece. By the time I made it over, my clearheadness had left for parts unknown once more, and I had to sit quietly for awhile before I could feel human enough to drink.

(Imagine that. I needed time to prepare for drinking.)

I spent the entire party in a very pleasant fog, and I'm not sure how much came from the cold and how much came from the four martinis that I contained by closing time. Consequently, I have very few reliable memories of the goings on. Spent quite a bit of time talking to Pixie Stix about boys and stuff. For about 15 minutes we tried to figure out if the vagrancies of the Queen Street crowd added up to a sexual connection between her and the Boy (her older brother). It's that whole you've slept with every one your partner's slept with thing. Such things amuse Pixie Stix and myself in a weird sort of way, although it makes the Boy squirm something fierce. Small wonder.

I remember Stacy in front of the stove in her oven mitts and green corset. I remember the way Scott's eyes lit up when he realized that I'd brought him meat and no fooling...and the way Stacy's eyes lit up at the MAC box. I remember making fun of Prince's raver pants with Pixie Stix and Stacy. I remember Pixie Stix telling me that I should whip her brother into shape since she likes me...and I remember shouting a response that caused Prince to remind me that we were in public. I remember telling someone that the last time I'd worn this dress, I'd flashed the room for half a second. I remember soliciting no-doze pills from a virtual stranger. I remember Gomer rubbing my feet for a timeless time near the end of the night.

Not many specifics there, but I felt really good during and after. Best party I've been to for a really long time. Definitely the most adult party I've ever attended...no video games, no gratuitous nudity, and it all wrapped up by 1 a.m. Huh.

Told Pixie Stix that I needed her to reproduce so that I could sublimate my own impractical desire for offspring...and was totally shocked to find out that she feels exactly the same way that I do. Both she & Prince are merely waiting for some measure of financial stability. The Boy is mostly concerned that an Uncle committee will require him to grow a mustache and put up a bunch of Robert Bateman prints.

A baby. Wow.

A couple days ago, the Boy took me to see "A Bug's Life," which is, by the way, the best Disney movie I've ever seen. Part of the plot is a quest to "the city" to find tough bugs to save the ant hill...but when we get there, "the city" is just a trailer with a trash heap. At which point, the Boy leaned over to me and said,

"This is probably what bugs think of my basement."

Which I found hilarious until I actually had to visit the place later on. Yuck.

No puppies. Maybe another time.