Before Saturday night’s gathering, the last time I had an honest-to-goodness, old-fashioned sleepover, I had a crush on Tom Cruise and pissed my friend’s bed. I can’t decide of which I’m more ashamed, but one thing’s for sure: this was more fun. The reasons why seem too numerous to count, but I’ll try:
1. Erin got drunk and began singing the Indigo Girls’ Rites of Passage c.d. with such deranged enthusiasm, I wet my pants. Some things never change.
2. I dreamt that Barack Obama was spooning me. But then I woke up, and it turned out just to be Amanda.
3. Maggie, the only married one amongst us, explained the key to successful partnerships, and it turns out it’s the ability to put someone else’s needs before our own. So it seems the rest of us are fucked. But whatever. Like Oprah always says, there’s always room and time to change.
4. I drank Newcastle since there was no Amstel Light around. Turns out, it tastes better!
5. Kim made this roast chicken with sweet potatoes which was infinitely better than the Spam and cauliflower concoction my friend Becky’s mom spooned up in 1988 that tasted like homeless-person crotch.*
*Have I ever tasted homeless person crotch? I have not. But a girl can dream, can’t she?
