In A Post-UUST World

Well, I'm finally done with that pain in the ass...um, unspecified standardized test. I think it went fine, although I doubt it was my greatest performance. Anyway, I'll find out in two and a half weeks. I came home exhausted and with a right side of my back that can hardly move (still! damned tiny desks in Davies!) only to find that my dearest roommate had hidden sixteen signs throughout my room, bathroom, and kitchen areas with "UUST" written on them (he used the real letters). I had apologized that I wouldn't be able to help clean up after our Tony party, and he apologized that he would be talking nonstop about the test after it was done. Sixteen signs counts as nonstop. Grr.

Speaking of our party, the weekend would have been pretty much ideal had I not been a bit of a nervous wreck. Friday night I went out with work people for drinks, then I picked up a copy of the new Ian McEwan and read the novel(la) in one sitting. I was crying by the end—yes, I'm weepy—and I may have gained some painful insight into myself. Which can be a good thing. Or it can just make me mopey. To make matters worse better [SIXTEEN SIGNS! --Ed.] Greg had his wallet stolen and we turned his room upside down looking for it. The next day, the perps charged a couple of metro cards...which is exactly what the crooks who stole Natalie's wallet and my laptop did. Weird mofos.

On Saturday, I went to Jess R's smaller birthday party on Governors Island. That island is totally underrated: totally beautiful, barely developed, and perfect for picnicking and frisbee throwing. We didn't have frisbees to throw, but it was still good times. Then I met up for coffee with Brad—we did some very solid hashing out of answers to general questions—and I had a delicious Mercer Kitchen dinner with V. The idea of the dinner was to stop me from studying, but I wound up doing a section at 11:45 pm after a few glasses of wine. It actually went decently. Who knew?

Sunday was major prep for the par-tay, as I made my World Famous Guacamole (aka Guac of Ages) and deviled eggs. Greg's dad was over, and he miraculously cleaned our entire apartment...well, not my room, which needs a hell of a once-over, but a lot of the apartment. I also managed to see Mike L, who was in from Dubai because his dad was having heart surgery. Apparently, half of the city is under a certain surveillance, where you cannot access sites that are not in accordance with the values of Arab society. Greeeat. So Mike's been having a hard time getting to certain networking sites from his apartment. In any case, 'twas good to see him, and I'm glad that he (amazingly) loves Dubai.

The party was ridiculously well-attended and tons of fun, even though Spring Awakening had a bit too much of a sweep. V and Sam got into a few low-key arguments about shows and how musicals should be written. The two of them have, er, different styles of arguing, so V valiantly muscled his way to victory. They really just have VASTLY different taste. So it goes. And Mark O brought his actual Tony, which added a delightful authenticity to the festivities. The Guac of Ages was a big hit (Chayes's boyfriend Steve apparently came exclusively for the guac), as were the eggs. I must admit, however, that Greg's open-faced smoked salmon and cilantro butter sandwiches were pretty darn good. After the party, V drove me home so my mom could drive me to the Have the following day.

And now I am relaxing after watching (yet again) the fabulous Spencer Quest/Jamie Donovan scene from Michael Lucas' La Dolce Vita. Porn is such high art these days. If you know anyone who's an expert in right-side-of-back massage, please let me know.