vive la revolucion

Happy Motherfucking Fourth of July. I am at Gilded Lily right now, listening to a whole bunch of drunky-mc-drunkersons dancing to “Come on Eileen” and making the floor shake. A few observations after the past few hours:

I braved the scary porch of death (tm) for the second year in a row, and I am still alive.

Krebs is wearing a matching baby blue jacket, cravate, and pair of shorts.

Tracing chalk outlines of drunk people on the street, sidewalks, and lawn is a really good idea. Especially if you’re me and Ali, and your dead people are both dead and in love. (Sort of a Juliet and Juliet sort of thing.)

Sometimes, it’s also a really good idea to call friends (like Townie and Moros, for instance) who are far away to share some long-distance holiday love with them. Not everyone gets to party with a huge group of fantastic theatre people on their major holidays, and that sort of karma is too good to keep all to yourself.

Sonya showed up in a skirt she made this morning.

Ray said, while watching me dance (and drink bourbon from my spiked flask), “Freesia, you are so badass.” I tried to argue with him, but he would not be budged. Go figure.

I love my 7 Strangers friends. Eli and Tyler and Corey and Ray and I had our own little mini-reunion, and it felt like coming home.

Ian likes to smack me. I find that I like it.

Tyler laughs like a girl. I can hear him cackling in the background RIGHT NOW.

Sometimes, when people get drunk and act immature, I want to kick them in the jugular. This is not a good idea and should be avoided at all costs.

There was a bat that kept dive-bombing the house while we were waiting for the fireworks. It was really cute.

Now, “I will survive” is on. Hoboy.

Earlier, everyone was having an argument about which high school graduating class was the best. It was shouted, loudly, in groups from opposite sides of the dance floor. For example, “95 is alive!”, blah blah fucking blah.

Being slightly drunk, and being allowed to chase a 7 year old boy around the house, and tickling him, all with the permission of his mother, is a really great way to spend half an hour. Especially when you start wrestling with one of those giant exercise balls.

The Aussie interns both do DAMN GOOD American accents. It put every accent I’ve ever done to shame.

Everyone, at some point in their life, should be lucky enough to have Ida nibble on your neck. Seriously.

I wore red, white, and blue today. By accident.

Nate E. is going to be swinging through here on Sunday.

Eli and Tyler mooned Annie’s party, which we could actually SEE from the scary porch (tm). I have photographic evidence.

John Osebold is cutting off his hair tomorrow. Sorry, ladies.

Dancing with Sanders can make anyone feel graceful. Try it sometime.

Giving a three-year-old a huge zoology textbook can keep them amused for hours.

And, most importantly, COREY Q. IS MOVING INTO MY HOUSE!

I know there’s something else important that should be included here, but I’ve forgotten what it is. Okay, now it’s Sonya’s turn to blog.