Moose in the Kitchen

Nothing says Bacchanalian Fete like feeling the space between the hammock where you’re gently rocking and the ground below abruptly disappear. And nothing cushions the blow to your spine better than several glasses of red wine.

Please note the culprit preparing to flee as Emily and I gather our scattered wits.

Manda would later claim no part in the incident, but we all know that for the shameless lie it is. PROOF IS IN THE FLICKR ACCOUNT, MANDA. That said, these things do seem to happen around me. Especially when cupcakes grapple with the laws of gravity.

Whenever I think of the Blathering, I will recall our speedy descent and Elizabeth’s gracious acceptance of our destruction of her charming outdoor landscape (not to mention her hammock). But we also answered many questions of vast, history-altering import. Such as: Is Sacramento truly a fashion port of the world? (Signs point to yes.) Also: What do bloggers do when they get together?

Jennie looking dignified, Manda looking culpable, me looking like I’ve owned that striped dress since 2001 which, in fact, I HAVE.

If I had finished my 13 Things You Should Know Before Making My Acquaintance, rather than leaving it at an unbecoming 9, I would’ve told you how much I love to dance. I routinely bop around my living room like an unhinged maniac with ear buds. Doing the robot at Holly’s wedding with her brother and sister will remain a highlight, edging out even the truffle aioli french fries. My dancing moose slippers are tenderly archived in the annals of Youtube. I also used to perform, once upon a time, in that glimmering era before I got lazy.

When Amy suggested we go dancing at a gay bar later that evening, I admit my reaction veered toward a pronounced preference for renouncing my shoes and collapsing on a nice, flat surface. A nice, flat surface without corseted trannies. But as we walked through the Western room full of plaid shirt-garbed lesbians doing the Electric Slide, I realized no couch could compare. No matter how fluffy the cushions. We spent the evening throwing ourselves wildly across the room.

Cupcake in hand, devil horns, wine glass in easy reach, and discussion so enthusiastic I forget my mouth is full. Possibly the most accurate picture of me ever taken. I’m already using it to scare off potential suitors.

Meeting smart, insanely funny women and eating cupcakes with them is one of my favorite things to do. Ladies, it was a true pleasure.