Dinner probably would have been Wendy’s or pizza or something god-awful like that had I not been invited to the Best. Dinner Party. Evar. at Tom and Tiff’s. I’m still trying to figure out what I liked best — the shrimp, the caprese, the lasagna, the grilled zucchini, the grilled peaches with mascarpone cheese or just all the fresh fruits, veggies and herbs from their local farmer’s market. Mmmm.
I think my favorite was the sangria filled with farmer’s market fruits. Yes, I’d still be buzzed from it if we didn’t have a 40-course meal of local-grown goodness.
I’m almost inspired to host a dinner party of my own. That is, if I can hire maids and cooks. Any takers?
I had to laugh because five of eight of us had the iPhone in-hand at dinner. iPhone orgy! I had my little red condom/baby buggy bumper on mine so I didn’t lose track of it in a sea of growing market share. 🙂
The gang was in my neck of the woods last night as Tiff performed at a local comedy night. She went on right before the headliner, and their opening acts were, well, something. There was one hot guy I was drooling over, but once he announced he was married, I gave up that pipe dream of bumping into him at the bar afterward.
There was one girl who must have blown someone to be put on the guest list. Awful. I’ll refrain from publishing her name because I’m not a heckler, but she was looking for audience participation and I was all but hiding under the table, as I had to quit paying attention lest I bean her with my Sam Adams bottle just to get her to STFU.
Anyway, I find the busier and happier I am, the less I blog and WANT to blog, more importantly. Without existential crises, I’m boring. I don’t mind losing touch with the Muse if it means everything’s good. I admit to hoping for a lot less inspiration for ye olde blogg if it means I’m out living life instead of writing about it!