Don't keep me hanging on like a yo-yo.

The hub and I actually went out last night. Like, to a bar. Which is practically newsworthy, given my dislike of leaving the apartment after dark. (I'm like a reverse vampire.) But leave the apartment we did in order to help KT Buffy and Keeley celebrate the day of their births. There were huge screens showing 80's videos (how did we not know George Michael was gay back in the Wham days? Buddy wore some tiiiiiny shorts...) and we all had fun oohing and ahhing over the metal boys' package enhancing pants.

At one point two girls called me over and asked if Keeley was famous. They were intrigued by the fact that people kept fawning all over him, plus he's sporting some fine "I'm potentially a someone" facial scruff these days. Unfortunately I made the error of telling these two cute girls that it was Keeley's birthday instead of, oh, lying. Apparently that was wrong. When my husband found out about it he started yelping "You would make a TERRIBLE wingman!" He launched over to the girls and spouted off some story about how Keeley had just sold a spec script to The O.C. and that we were all actors hanging on to his coattails. I believe he even threw something in about being Keeley's handler. The girls were all, We thought we recognized him! (They recognized him from his spec script?) I'm sure it could've gone on and on but the bar was getting overrun with frats and it was time to go.

Is mama sporting a hell of a hangover? Why yes. Yes she is. Did she also just throw her neck out while typing? Oh sweet baby Jesus, yes.