Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (
azurelunatic) wrote2009-03-16 01:17 am
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LJ Dinner!
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I was pulling out my phone and starting a quick text to JD to see if they had already arrived when they arrived. They'd just run into a mutual friend on the bus. We clarified that
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Owing to the nature of a tapas restaurant, we conspired over food choices (and started out with a pitcher of sangria). Two sips later, I was tipsy, and challenged
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Around the table, we had, starting from me in the back corner: me, Gorman's girlfriend,
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We ordered. We started off with the bread and the very tasty dipping sauce. The third table did not get a plate at first, and we declared that no one thought of the Early Adopters, to much hilarity. (It arrived, and the Early Adopters were appeased amidst much vinegar-and-oil-and-pepper and nice chewy bread.) There was gossip and shop talk. There is always gossip and shop talk.
When the Patatas Bravas arrived, they were an instant hit.
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Evidently
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As I am a compulsive blogger, I started taking notes in my little pocket notebook about all the general silliness.
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There was innuendo. Either
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Ferrell had sausage. People ate Ferrell's sausage. Both
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JD poured sangria with as little ice as possible, leading people to blame him for the ice stacking up in the pitcher.
The boys were being cute.
We know it's serious when the butter knives come out.
Someone proposed pole-dancing, but the available pole behind Nicole did not have clearance from the wall, and the poles in the other part of the restaurant had tables with people. Someone inadvertently made eye contact when pointing out the poles, and promptly hid from the curious gaze of the other table. The music had been turned up, perhaps to drown out our loud and cheerful (and probably slightly obscene) conversation. Not daunted, we talked louder to each other in order to be heard.
A rare photo including Patti in the background. Ferrell's hair may or may not be on fire.
There was Twilight meta. Someone had thrown the book across the room at one point or another. Stacey and I wanted to know who was more drunk. On two and a half glasses of sangria, I was fairly well toasted, and had started occasionally talking in Yoda syntax. That was enough for me; I switched to water and started to sober up, although the giggly continued.
We ordered dessert. Carrie got her limoncello. Snark is not in this photo. The wall-photo of a white poodle pooping is.
Dessert arrives!
The tuxedo cake was quickly converted to a leaning tower, with several eager spoons making short work of its structural integrity.
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Gorman's girlfriend didn't want a picture of him fellating his churro, however.
There was dancing to assorted pieces of music, including Mr. Big Stuff.
Eventually the party broke up. A contingent went to a bar for dancing. Most of the out-of-town contingent hopped a taxi for their hotel. I headed back for BART. It was still relatively early, but late enough that I had the car essentially to myself for the last segment of the trip. I considered dancing on the train, just for fun. I did do a few twirls, hanging on to the overhead bars, but my knees were a little too upset, and I started to feel a little foolish, so I didn't do too much of that. I did twirl out of the train when it hit my stop, and giggled all the way back home.
Larger versions of select pictures
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(And now I'm curious: which one is
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and yes, Nicole =
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