Man, I can't remember a more bizarre week. It's been so freaking busy, and crazy. For instance: our publication party. It was on Saturday night, and man, was it ever a good time. But I got extremely drunk. Margaritas and beer and wine and a whole lot of vodka will do that to a girl, I guess.

In case you're starting to worry about my galloping alcohol consumption, let me reassure you. There's been a lot of partying during this, the last couple weeks of school, but after tomorrow night school will be over, and there will be much less debauchery in my life. Plus, I went to a party yesterday and didn't drink at all. Of course, I drank enough on Saturday night to cover my entire weekend, so maybe that's not such an accomplishment.

The publication party was tons of fun. I got to work the door for a while, and I milked it for all it was worth. Everyone who came in got a name tag from me. The name tags said surreal things like, "Penguin," "Cheese is nice," and "My hair is weird." One of my friends is moving to Texas to take a teaching job, and I gave him one that said, "Don't mess with Texas. That's my job." The name tags cracked me up all night. I amuse myself, if no one else.

We had an art and poetry mural, a table full of nachos, and much merriment. We also had an open reading, which I (partially) emceed. At one point, I went up to the podium and took a picture of the audience. That picture is the funniest thing ever. Laurie is looking at me like I'm so cute and loveable. Franka is applauding madly. Mickey is pumping his fist in the air, all, "You go, girl!" Alexander Hamilton is looking at me like, "We're letting her teach next year?" And Probst looks completely embarrassed to know me. It's a great picture.

It is not, however, the Best Picture Ever. That would be the one of Mickey planting a big old smooch on my cheek. Ahem. I quite enjoy that picture.

After the party, we went to a bar down the street and, you know, drank more, I guess, or something. It's all a vague sort of blur. Probst had to baby-sit me while I sobered up enough to drive home. Unfortunately for him, I was not only drunk, but I had PMS. I was a maudlin, maudlin drunk. I ended up crying over absolutely nothing and then five minutes later, I was looking at myself in the mirror and saying, "Oh, I have such a cute mouth. Look at how cute I am..."

Probst did a lot of ineffectual patting and said things like, "There, there." I think I owe him one.

On Sunday I had the most surreal experience, like, ever.

My friend Hannah had a Sopranos party which conflated two groups of her friends, so there were some people there I didn't know. It was a small shindig, but Probst and Granola Girl were there. I was standing around, chatting and being my charming little self, and passing around the pictures from the publication party.

All of a sudden, this guy turned to me and asked, "Do you work at Starbucks?" I said yes, trying to place him. I thought he was one of my customers. Then he said, "Do people call you mopie?" I told him that it's actually mo pie, but yes. Then he told me who he was. Then my head imploded.

It's Kevin, with whom I have exchanged e-mail, who is part of the Bookworm Burb, with whom I was supposed to have lunch sometime in the future, and who reads my journal. He recognized me from my journal. How bizarre is that? I felt like a miniature celebrity. I'm sure all my friends at the party were rather confused. Except for Probst, none of them knew that the journal existed. Well, the cat's out of the bag now.

All I can say is, thank god Kevin isn't on my notify list, because he would have had a piece of information that would have made the party very weird. And thank god certain people weren't at the party. "Oh, you have a web journal? Where is it?" Aye caramba.

Having my worlds collide like that-- watching Kevin have a conversation with Probst, for instance-- was freaky as hell. I couldn't help thinking, wow, what if he never said anything, and he just silently sat there, having all this information about me, and I would never know it.

Cue the Twilight Zone theme.

Kevin is a sweetheart, though. It was exciting to meet him, and I look forward to eventually having that lunch. And the party was fun, even in an alcohol free sort of way. It's all good.

Speaking of Probst, we were hanging out the other day and we created a new Sims family: the Darkside family. The members of this family are Spike, Buffy, Angel, Faith, Willow, Darth Vader, Han Solo, and Emily Dickinson. It's a peculiar family. To say the least.

We built a two story mansion covered in black plastic. Actually, Probst is responsible for the vast majority of the hideous décor. Speaking of hideous décor, here is the library, my favorite room in the house.

Note the Wall of Art, the fuzzy orange chairs, and the bookshelves everywhere.

Actually, I take that back about the library being my favorite. The tiny dungeon room is my favorite. The room has absolutely no purpose whatever. The only thing in the room is a skeleton in a cage.

When the Sims moved in, Darth Darkside headed straight for the skeleton and began applauding appreciatively. It doesn't get more appropriate than that.

Torture devices! This is my kind of place!

Here, Han Solo and Spike are praying to Buddha.

Han Solo asks for divine intervention to help him win that soccer game.

Spike has a thing for Melissa Peeps...

Did you know I have a band?

But he really has a thing for Darth. I guess they have a lot more in common than he and Melissa do. Besides, they're both mad, bad and dangerous to know.

Say, baby, my Corvette is parked right outside... you wanna go for a ride?

But the really interesting story in the Darkside house is Han Solo and Emily Dickinson. You see, he has a big thing for her, but she just thinks of him as a friend. But she torments him by sharing his bed. You can tell this will end badly...

Say, baby, my Millennium Falcon is parked right outside...

"I went out with Tim instead, which under normal circumstances would not have been so much of a mistake, I think. But when you’re walking on thin ice, one misstep can send you straight into the ice water."