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And now, for another installment of My Favorite Martian:
Friday I skipped my afternoon classes again due to unhappy terror-ness. Bad me. I got a nice nap, though. I woke up at 4:30, thinking it was 5:30. I was in a Bob Dobbs t-shirt, Edward Gorey sweatshirt, and black jeans. On a whim, I hopped onto the MOO and asked if anyone knew the dress code for the Icon Grill where my favorite Martian was taking me to dinner. I was told, "much hipper than you're thinking," and panicked.
To make a long story short, I ended up amazingly overdressed next to my date, who was wearing a purple t-shirt and jeans. Heh. I always forget that half the people with money in this town got it wearing t-shirts. It gave me an opportunity to wear my leopard print dress (it's a bright but tasteful print and almost floorlength, damn it, it's not like THAT. perverts.), which is always a good thing.
At the Icon, I had the best spaghetti and meatballs in my LIFE and a delicious Virgin Cosmopolitan. And Marty gave me the Fudge Mousse pocky he picked up at Uwajimaya -- I was too full to try it until this morning, but ooo, it's good.
Other highlights of the Icon: more Dale Chihuly globes than you can shake a stick at (well, you could shake a stick at them, but the establishment would probably arrest you), a bread platter with three flavors of butter, and a women's restroom that plays an endless video loop about how parking in cars with boys at night doesn't really make you popular, even with the boys you're parking with. I am told that the men's room features Ride of the Valkyries, but I have not tested this.
(Side note: even in breakfast left-over form, the meatballs are pretty spectacular.)
After dinner, we went to the site of Erin's flaming cheese party (mm, greek restaurant food), where there were almost twenty of my dear friends at a very very long table, so I only had conversational access to five at a time. I wanted to do the mad hatter thing and keep moving down so we could see different people now and then, but it was not to be. Neuro also put a napkin on my head, kicking off a long series of aspersions that I was either drunk or always like this.
Frankly it made me a bit nervous. I don't put a lot of stock in acting predictably, but I don't mean to be socially deviant in an intrusive fashion. I get quite a buzz off the collective energy of 20 of my dear friends, though, so I may have been a bit eccentric. I wish I had some kind of objective meter for that sort of thing.
Next, Marty and I went to the Time Machine, which was a fun movie. I wish that the two times I had to get up to go to the restroom hadn't been still cool bits (including the first activation of the machine) -- there were big scary fight scenes that I'd have been just as happy to have missed. Their morlocks were /muscle-bound/ like crazy and had very quick cgi reflexes.
Then we snuggled at his place for a bit while BadConductor played atrocious covers of grunge songs by Richard Cheese (imagine Closer sung by a lounge lizard, I kid you not). Then we were both yawning, so he took me home.
It was a good date. It still felt a little ackward, I think because I'm still in a little bit of "he likes me back, he likes me back!" awe, and because I'm not sure how to converse easily with him yet. I've been hanging out with great and flamboyant exaggerators, and that tends to fall flat with him. I need to relearn quiet and moderation. Hey, it sounds like a good idea anyway.
Waiting is. I will understand more in time. In the meantime, I have a Werewolf game (yay, ecoterrorist blood and mayhem!) and a liquid nitrogen party (more happy time with Erin and the gang, and a friend from high school as well) to attend today. Off I go.
Friday I skipped my afternoon classes again due to unhappy terror-ness. Bad me. I got a nice nap, though. I woke up at 4:30, thinking it was 5:30. I was in a Bob Dobbs t-shirt, Edward Gorey sweatshirt, and black jeans. On a whim, I hopped onto the MOO and asked if anyone knew the dress code for the Icon Grill where my favorite Martian was taking me to dinner. I was told, "much hipper than you're thinking," and panicked.
To make a long story short, I ended up amazingly overdressed next to my date, who was wearing a purple t-shirt and jeans. Heh. I always forget that half the people with money in this town got it wearing t-shirts. It gave me an opportunity to wear my leopard print dress (it's a bright but tasteful print and almost floorlength, damn it, it's not like THAT. perverts.), which is always a good thing.
At the Icon, I had the best spaghetti and meatballs in my LIFE and a delicious Virgin Cosmopolitan. And Marty gave me the Fudge Mousse pocky he picked up at Uwajimaya -- I was too full to try it until this morning, but ooo, it's good.
Other highlights of the Icon: more Dale Chihuly globes than you can shake a stick at (well, you could shake a stick at them, but the establishment would probably arrest you), a bread platter with three flavors of butter, and a women's restroom that plays an endless video loop about how parking in cars with boys at night doesn't really make you popular, even with the boys you're parking with. I am told that the men's room features Ride of the Valkyries, but I have not tested this.
(Side note: even in breakfast left-over form, the meatballs are pretty spectacular.)
After dinner, we went to the site of Erin's flaming cheese party (mm, greek restaurant food), where there were almost twenty of my dear friends at a very very long table, so I only had conversational access to five at a time. I wanted to do the mad hatter thing and keep moving down so we could see different people now and then, but it was not to be. Neuro also put a napkin on my head, kicking off a long series of aspersions that I was either drunk or always like this.
Frankly it made me a bit nervous. I don't put a lot of stock in acting predictably, but I don't mean to be socially deviant in an intrusive fashion. I get quite a buzz off the collective energy of 20 of my dear friends, though, so I may have been a bit eccentric. I wish I had some kind of objective meter for that sort of thing.
Next, Marty and I went to the Time Machine, which was a fun movie. I wish that the two times I had to get up to go to the restroom hadn't been still cool bits (including the first activation of the machine) -- there were big scary fight scenes that I'd have been just as happy to have missed. Their morlocks were /muscle-bound/ like crazy and had very quick cgi reflexes.
Then we snuggled at his place for a bit while BadConductor played atrocious covers of grunge songs by Richard Cheese (imagine Closer sung by a lounge lizard, I kid you not). Then we were both yawning, so he took me home.
It was a good date. It still felt a little ackward, I think because I'm still in a little bit of "he likes me back, he likes me back!" awe, and because I'm not sure how to converse easily with him yet. I've been hanging out with great and flamboyant exaggerators, and that tends to fall flat with him. I need to relearn quiet and moderation. Hey, it sounds like a good idea anyway.
Waiting is. I will understand more in time. In the meantime, I have a Werewolf game (yay, ecoterrorist blood and mayhem!) and a liquid nitrogen party (more happy time with Erin and the gang, and a friend from high school as well) to attend today. Off I go.