I�ll spare the eye-rolling and the groaning and avoid saying that I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. But, yeah. I�m beat.

Friday night was my friend Happy�s b-day party. We started off at her house for dinner, and then we ventured to a neighborhood bar as our first real stop for the night. People trickled in, beers were consumed in excess, and then we headed to the second spot.

At the second spot I crawled under a table so everyone wouldn�t have to get up to let me out of the booth�s far end, and I got gum in my hair. Anyone who has read for a while knows that I don�t like gum. Why someone would stick gum under a table instead of disposing it in a used beer bottle is beyond me.

I picked at it all night, but I ended up having to cut it out of my hair the next morning.

Speaking of the next morning, I�m convinced that I have ghosts. This is the second time something odd has happened in Hambone�s bathroom (yes, my cat has his own bathroom). The first time I assumed it was something goofy done because I was drunk, but after what happened on Friday night, I have very good reasons why what�s happened in there could not have been the work of my drunken self. It�s spooky.

So spooky that I didn�t drink the next night.

Well, one beer. And two shots. So we�ll revise that above statement and say that I didn�t buy any drinks.

Three drinks in more than that many hours. Whatever.

I started the night at my friend Oz� place. I love his friends so much that I ended up skipping the second party I was scheduled to attend. The conversation is always great with these people, and I enjoyed myself a lot. When it got good and late, we all went our separate directions.

A text message later, and I had my second destination picked out. A few girlfriends and I hung out at this place, laughing at the 21-year-olds who kept giving one friend the eye.

Note to all 21-year-olds looking to pick up someone at a bar: Try for another 21-year-old. Most 25+ women won�t even look at you. And if they are, they�re laughing that you because you immediately walked into the bar and ordered shots. We used to do that too. Now we drink ourselves silly with tasty microbrews or top-shelf liquor all night because we like to go home and sleep, not puke on one�s roommate�s bath rug.

The next morning I woke up at 8:30 and caught up with a few friends on the weekend�s activities. I knew I had a busy day, so I stayed in bed for as long as possible to catch some cat naps before rushing off to the chorus fundraiser.

Being part of a g@y m3n�s chorus, of course I didn�t go around selling raffle tickets in a t-shirt advertising the chorus.

Noooo. Instead I was a woman pretending to be a man who was pretending to be a woman, a la Felicity Huffman (but with a lot of flair).

In sum, it was me dressed as a drag queen. Between the scandalous outfit, the teased hot pink wig, the ridiculous amount of makeup, and the oh-so-fabulous false eye lashes, did I have fun! The event was a great success, and everyone else seemed to have a good time too. I barely even noticed that my tush was hanging out in front of hundreds of people.

Today I�m absolutely dragging ass, but I need to be up and at �em for tonight�s ukulele class. I�m sure it won�t be a problem once I start laughing about the ridiculousness of my ukulele playing.

Happy Monday, all. Hope you don�t have a case of it.�