Five days?

It's Sunday! That means it's officially this week! This week being the week in which Amber's going to show up!

Good lord, people! Amber, and me, on one side of the country! That much sheer concentrated AWESOME packed into one tiny little room... my neighbors are probably going to suffocate! Suffocate on AWESOME! That's the best non-enormous-breasts way to suffocate!

Seriously. I may have mentioned that I'm excited by this before. But damn if it's not going to be fantastical. And you know, I'm somewhat less nerve-racked about the whole affair than I was a few weeks ago. Oh, I'm still freaking out about whether my shirts are shiny enough and what I smell like, but I'm growing unconcerned with the whole 'what the hell are we going to do' question. I pretty much quit making up imaginary itineraries of things to do... scheduling fun is ridiculous, and possibly even ricockulous. Besides, egotistical though this may sound, she's not coming across the country to see New York, she's coming across the country to see ME. So shuttling from club to restaurant to tourist trap nonstop would be... edifying, and varied, and perhaps even fun in its own, stressful way, but gads. It would also suck. It would suck hosewater, no doubt about it. It would suck balogna through a straw. Plus I have no way to get anywhere. So I said fuck that, horked some home video entertainments so that we could pass a weekend without actually needing to leave the apartment, and revised the itinerary from the ground up.

Friday, 10:00 pm-- Awkward ride back from airport. Avoid eye contact, mumble.
Friday, 10:30 pm-- Commence fun.
Monday, 4:35 pm-- Cease fun.

I think it'll work.