Okay, here's the first bit of good news: Joey and I got As on our presentation. As, and a comment card that said lots of good things: that we were articulate, and informative, and focused and blah blah blah.

The second bit of good news is that I made it through my feature reading alive and, I think, well. I don't remember how well I did, frankly. I overshot the amount of alcohol I needed to drink to keep me from being nervous. I was afraid my buzz would wear off in the middle of the reading, so I just kept right on drinking.

ME: What should I drink next?

BUDDY: What have you had?

ME: A Sea Breeze that was almost entirely vodka, and a Kamikaze.

BUDDY: Well, have a rum and coke or something. That way you won't get sick.

ME: I never get sick from drinking.

BUDDY (to bartender): She'll have a Long Island iced tea.

I was talking to one of the girls in my class, and I told her how nervous I was. (I was slamming down that Kamikaze at the time). She tilted her head at me and said, "You know, you just don't seem the nervous type."

I know! I got that a lot last night. Even I was surprised at how nervous I was. I am such a ham. I have no problem singing out loud on the street, doing goofy things, dressing funny (my sister is now thinking, "That's for damn sure") or wearing the Muppet Hat. And I've been loosening up about reading my poetry in public, at open mikes and such. So I don't know where all that nervousness came from.

The Muppet Hat was quite the smash, and oddly, it gave me confidence. If I have the balls to wear a giant fuzzy black hat, I thought to myself, I have the balls to get up and read some poetry. The Muppet Hat got me comments ranging from, "That hat is fabulous!" to, "Why are you wearing that stupid hat?" The latter being meant jokingly, I hope.

BELLE: What a great hat.

ME (taking off my coat): Thanks!

BELLE: Wow, you are so hot in that outfit. Well, you're just hot, period.

Belle is a sweetie. As I told my notify list, I was excited to be able to wear my "slightly less curvaceous, but still sexy as hell" jeans. They fit me about two years ago, and then they didn't fit me anymore. Now they fit me again. This is happy.

So I sexed it up with the SLCBSSAH jeans and a low cut top (my life philosophy being: when in doubt, show boobies). And let's not forget my haircut, which I have come to passionately adore. So I felt pretty good about all of that.

Still felt the need to drink, though. And boy. I drank.

Belle bought me a drink. Probst bought me a drink. I bought me some drinks. Laurie, Joey and her boyfriend bought me roses (how sweet). My sister, bless her heart, sent me a fruit basket with a bottle of red wine! Amazingly thoughtful and unexpected.

There were not that many people at the reading, which is kind of a shame, in retrospect. Since it was in the middle of the week, a lot of my friends had conflicts (for instance, Eleanor had play rehearsal). And of course, a lot of my friends live in places like LA and New Jersey.

The people that were there are mostly my friends from school, all of whom have seen me read at open mikes. So I didn't get a whole lot of, "Wow, your poetry is a revelation" or anything, reading in front of people who are familiar with me and my work. Through my drunken haze, I do remember a very warm response: laughter, and applause, and cheers, and so forth at all the right places. I also remember taking some pictures afterwards.

ME: Can I take a picture with you? I have to have a picture with you.

TOKER: Of course, Mo!

ME: I just love you so much. I just love everybody so much!

TOKER: Um. Are you on Ecstasy?

After I finished reading, Mickey's wife read. She was cool as a cucumber, and seemed to read for a shorter period of time than I did. I sensed less warmth from the crowd for her stuff, which isn't entirely surprising. On the one hand, my stuff lends itself to more of an immediate reaction. Plus, all my best friends in the program were there, making up the majority of the audience. I was so suffused with warmth and affection for them, that I think I might have gone slightly over the edge when it was all over.

ME: Can I kiss you on the cheek? I'm kissing everyone on the cheek.

TOKER: Sure.

I kiss him on the cheek.

TOKER: Dear god. Even when you just kiss my cheek, it's hot.

We headed out to a bar down the street to play pool and drink some more. People slowly dissipated. I had to sober up before I drove home and Probst gallantly offered to hang out with me and walk me to my car whenever I was ready to go.

It was particularly nice of him because he wasn't feeling well earlier in the evening, and had broken a date he had lined up, and wasn't sure that he would make it to the reading at all. So it was nice of him to stay with me until I was sober. He complained about it a little. But that's Probst for you.

ME: Can I kiss you on the cheek?

BUDDY: I guess so. As long as you kiss other people, and it's not just me.

ME: Don't worry. I'm kissing everybody!

BUDDY: Um. Are you on Ecstasy?

"Currently, I feel slightly nauseous. The doctor did give me some Compazine suppositories to insert if I feel nauseous. So I think I’m just going to go to the restroom and put this pill the size of a goldfish up my-- yeah, RIGHT. Let’s see. What are my options here? There’s option one: a little nausea. Then there’s option two: STICKING something IN MY ASS."