We won! Too bad there's no party.

Shlog had the most visitors from Tiny Cat Pants! I feel a little like Busy Mom, with the internet sending me delightful treats and all. Not only that but Ryan is back in town and in fine form as usual. And tonight I'm planning on sitting down at Cafe Coco and reading Irish poetry to the Beckett defender until he either begs for mercy or weeps from beauty. (Have I begged you lately to buy this book? If not, consider yourself begged.) But I will purge from my mind the precious brain cells taken up by wondering about characters from a play I don't even like and he will suffer with me, for obvious reasons. Hmm. You know what I just realized? I adore all you mopey bitter guys who drink too much and smoke more than you should. If I ever moved some place where we could actually have people over, I'd have to have a substantial back porch for everyone who wanted to sit out there with a drink in one hand and a smoke in the other contemplating their existential loneliness. And I would love every second of it.