You Can Go Off The Eagles, But You Can't Go Off John Denver. The Man Was Freakin' Friends With The Muppets.

Welcome to Saturday night.

An architect sat next to us and drew cartoons while eavesdropping on all our stories about making out with people. I bet we made his blog.

I have consented to Classic Country Saturday Night, but I insisted on taking off my pants.

"I'd be happy just to date someone who told me his real name." That is my actual quote of the night. Stef''s is the headline. I owed her.

We tried to go to the movies instead of The Dubliner, but it's like the Bermuda Triangle. It just sucks you in, never to be heard from again. Except for that we didn't die and you will hear from us again and it's no where near Bermuda or has anything remotely triangular about it, otherwise it's exactly like the Bermuda Triangle.

It is totally not our fault that everyone in the North Dallas vicinity also wanted to see Jason Bourne fight people and do stuff like call people from the roof of the building across the street. Yeah, we totally watched parts one and two today to prepare for the big opening weekend show. We don't care if you think we're weird, you stood in line for The Phantom Menace, you stupid fanboy loser, so fuck off and get a haircut while you're at it.

Anyway, so it was sold out. We had drinks instead and now I'm on location and will be sleeping in The Pleasant Room so we can complete the triumvirate tomorrow at 10:30 am. There is a Starbucks behind the escalators.

My 20th high school reunion is in two years. I am uncomfortable with that knowledge. Let's move on.

I'm getting very sleepy. I think I should play some free cell to anesthetize myself even further for sleeping purposes. It's not like I carry my nightly dose or extra panties in my purse. Anymore.

I don't know what that means.