Poop is better for water-cooler chat.

Last night Lindsay had a housewarming party. I planned to go early, hang out for a while, not get drunk, and then make it home before midnight since I knew I'd have to get up at six to come into work today. Of course, I didn't leave Lakeview until ten, and Julia and I took two buses to get out to Wicker Park. Oh, and I had two glasses of wine before I left my apartment.

I also realized that I have some disability that prohibits me from "mingling" at parties. Instead, I cling to whomever I know and hang out with them. This was at its most extreme last night, when Kristin, Julia, and I sat in the kitchen, away from ninety-percent of the party, and talked about bowel movements, unconsciously making sure that anyone within earshot would avoid us at all costs. And when Lindsay decided to make us mingle, we just all ended up in her room talking (though not about BMs).

I managed to not get too drunk, so I can check that one off the list. I was tipsy enough that when Kristin drove us home I sang and car-danced to "You Gotta Be" by Desiree (song is tiiite).