Home from the toga party, attempting to sober up so I can drive out to get some supper. Should have had more to eat, but there really was nothing at home to chow down.
Nic and I practically played The Amazing Race: Roman Costume Hunting after work, upon discovering that yes, our attendance was required. The rule – no costume, no entry. My efforts at lunchtime yielded nothing, so it was a mad dash to the last open costume shop to grab a couple of dresses, home to chow down whatever that’s available, and then out the door, trying not to trip over the outfit. We met up with Chlo, the one who organized our attendance, and then headed off to the party fashionably late, but early enough to catch a lulzy video clip that included her significant other prancing around the city in a toga (?!).
This week has been a bit challenging for all of us, excepting the very inebriated and exuberant significant other of Chlo’s, and all we needed was a few drinks, and then home to crash. The free entertainment of lulzing at skanks, giving wedgies to dudes dressed like Gerard Butler in 300 and chugging down free (cheap) alcohol, kind of helped the slide into a downtime weekend. I was a bit sad no one screamed out, “This. Is. SPARTA.” towards the end of the night. A++++ and they could have had the remainder of my drink tickets.
Now, I go hunt for food.