So, there was a Calling. Love and love and, well, love, to robinbloke for playing the most 80s set ever to grace the face of the earth. I danced a lot. I broke a few times. At one point I had to run away from watching the dancefloor because I was in danger of losing control completely and kidnapping someone. No, really.
I broke over Vince, of course. I broke over duncanneko. I didn't break over someone I was expecting to, but broke over a couple of other people instead. There was a certain amount of brokenness flying around anyway. And not nearly enough people, and far too many.
And then there was stuff. Which was good stuff at the time, I suppose. But given that it was alcohol-induced I'm going to forget about it (snowflake's chance in hell) and if I do remember it it will be as bad stuff.
Oh, I just hate that.
Yesterday brought lunch with rathenar and lovelyoliver (I do like them both so very much) and then Once Upon A Time In Mexico with surje, wildeabandon, deliberateblank, nisaba, and melston; combine that with Johnny Depp, Salma Hayek and Antonio Banderas and it's a wonder my eyes didn't explode with the sheer amount of pretty. It's a very silly film. Fun, though.
And I've just got back. I'm really not looking forward to this evening.
But then, I wouldn't be looking forward to anything much right now. I'd forgotten what that place does, how it warms you to the point of feeling safe there and then throws you a punch in the stomach. Or more than one, or worse. I hurt all over, like someone beat me up while I was there. My back is agony, twisting up every ten minutes or so.
But it hurts.
Really haven't got time to go back through my Friends page; if you want me to know anything, leave me a comment or something.