1. Friday night: Miranda and Scott's surprise going away party. Have fun in Sweden, you crazy kids. I would have had more to drink (vodka tonics for $3.50!) if only I didn't have to drive myself home. But, in light of the fact that there was karaoke going on, perhaps it was best I stayed sober. The Swedish fish were excellent.
2. Saturday afternoon: Obamarama. Other than the fact that we had to stand in line for an eternity before getting in, all was super. Surprise performance by Jeff Tweedy. Obama could talk about geometry proofs for three hours, and I would still be fascinated. (Not to diminish the fine speechwriting by one Jon Favreau, of course.) I was thinking I'd miss the caucus because of my class on Tuesday night, but now I'm thinking I'll miss my class because of the caucus. Yes we can, Scarlett Johansson. Yes we can, girl from Fresh Prince whom I once saw at the Paradise during a Phantom Planet show. Yes we can.
3. Saturday night: Nikki-rama. Went to a party where I randomly met another '04 Emerson grad. He did not seem as thrilled by this coincidence as I was. Then off to the Entry for Chooglin'. It seems that if you walk purposefully backstage and downstairs at the Entry, no one will question you. Of course, Nikki had reason to be there; I was just the blandly-dressed tagalong who leapt for the first open cushion on the sofa that became available. (Because I'm an old lady and my legs were sore from Obamarama.) The poor kid next to me kept trying to strike up a conversation ("Hey, do you have a lighter?" "Hey, that jacket is awesome; where'd you get it?"), but I was sort of kaput from the long day.
Dear Guy from the Band Downstairs at the Entry: I know that girls backstage are supposed to be into you people. Sorry I was such a dud. Perhaps our love could have defied the odds, but it was way past my bedtime.
Nikki, you looked hot, by the way, and I had a great time, despite my fatigue.
4. Sunday: Snoozer Bowl at Em's. Boring game (mostly). Boring commercials. Great snacks! I was the only one cheering for a particular team, and then the Pats went and made me look like an ass for picking the wrong side. Thanks a lot, Brady. Why don't you get sacked a few more times.
No, I take it back. I know it's not your fault, Tom. Maybe you can knock up a few more supermodels in the off season, and I'm sure you'll be back in top form next year. I have faith.