Lorinda took me out for dinner after work on Friday, and we ate like kings and had ourselves a little wine. You could also say that we had a little whine with our wine, as our dinner are always chocked full of girltalk. Ahh -- I love my Friday dinners with Lorinda.

Afterwards we went home and changed into going-out clothes, snagging a couple more glasses of wine from my apartment lobby where they had trays of appetizers and glasses full of some sweet, sweet white in an attempt to make up for something crappy I�m sure. Ghetto elevators be damned, but you have to appreciate a brie wheel presentation in your apartment�s lobby.

We made our way over to Melvin B�s -- still with cups of wine in-hand -- and talked with our baseball-watching friends until my birthday party started. L and I went to the Freebie Bar and got our free beer while more and more people started showing up to wish me a happy birthday. We danced, we drank, we had a good time.

Somewhere along the way we made it back to the Very Bad Bar. I was met with birthday kisses, and the DJ was my jukebox all night. After hours of fun-fun-fun, a few people crashed at my place and we all slept the wonderful drunk sleep.

My eyes popped open the next morning, and I bounced hangover-free to the livingroom and told everyone to get out. With the house to myself, I continued reading my book with a Hambone snuggled up against me. This inevitably lead to a nap, and I woke up to Lorinda calling to tell me to get my tush to Cubby Bear to watch the game.

I made it a Diet Coke night, and I considered calling my little brother when the Cubs won so he could hear the partying, but I didn�t want my parents to think I was drunk-dialing them, sigh a disappointed sigh, and hang their heads that their goody-goody daughter was a drunkard. Likely they will read this, and they�ll know that tonight�s call to my favorite brother is in celebration, not inebriation.

As soon as the Cubs won, the music was flipped on and everyone started dancing along to Dr. Who and Queen. After the requisite celebratory music, the Shorty-It�s-Your-Birthday, It�s-the-Freaking-Weekend-Baby-�bout-to-have-Me-Some-Fun, and Love-You-Like-a-Fat-Kid-Loves-Cake music came on, and we continued dancing.

A funny moment occurred when I made eyes with this handsome guy who was very obviously staring at all I did. Lorinda agreed that he looked familiar, and we tried to place him. Bingo! Drunken make-out at the Very Bad Bar, circa June-ish. We shared a laugh at Rick, I gave him the what�s-up nod, and then thought about those who went home with people and how they should call it a deja-screw. Alas, I still cannot think of a name for vaguely remembering someone you once kissed. Let the guestbook know if you�ve got a runaway creative streak.

Throughout the night my friends gave the peace-out and headed home, leaving me with this really cool group of strangers. I danced non-stop for five hours, and I had the greatest time. I got phone numbers for the new friends, so I�ll be inviting them out this afternoon for more baseball watching. I�ll try to integrate the groups, making my posse the coolest ever. Whee!

All right. I�m now giving the peace-out so I can get started with my day. Hope your Sunday is great.

I�ve gotta give a big thanks to my psuedo-cousin Rob who purchased me a domain! You can now access this diary from http://www.chicagojo.com! Once I have some time to put something together, I�ll throw up a real web page with pictures and links and stuff! Thanks so much Rob! �