My feet are so super dirty, I call them Superfeet. In my head it sounds like Sam Jackson say "Superfeet ... they're dirty." Anyway, the reason my feet are so dirty is because I spent the evening at Mayfest. The Cherry Poppin Daddy's played in a grassy nook amongst downtown Tulsa's versions of skyscrapers. Laura, Matthew, Ali, Sabrina and I had our spot on the grass. When the music started, my feet started tapping, my head started boppin and I leaned over to Sabrina and said "Let me know when you want to dance." There's a wide cobblestone path in front of the stage that had a clearing for swing dancing. I'd say it was about three minutes later that Sabrina hopped up and took me up there with her. We found a spot at the edge of the path out of the way of the dancers. I didn't realize it was so muddy until I took of my shoes from all the dancing. Sabrina and I danced for over an hour, twirling around, kicking the air, snapping our fingers. We don't know to swing dance at all, but by the time the last few songs rolled around, I was shaking my head to the beat with a smile on my face saying "Oooh yeah." My feet didn't stop moving the entire time. It was amazing. But now my feet are covered in mud and I'm too exhausted to wash them tonight.

I did, however, find enough energy to make a delicious midnight snack: Grilled provolone and salami sandwich with tikka masala sauce. Just think about it.




Is it me, or does the way that cheese melted down remind you of something ... drippy and opaque.

Le sigh. I miss my boyfriend.

Oh wonderful days!

I just got home. Because the bars close at 2:00. And that means something to me because I'm now 21... =D

I wanted to embrace the bartender at Caz's tonight. Let me just say that I don't drink often, but when I do, I do drink well. I was just sitting in a bar stool wondering what to ask for. I'm also frugal. A frugal and picky drinker, that's me! Anyway, I saw they had pomegranate syrup at hand, and decided instantly that it needed to be involved in whatever drink I ordered. So my friend William I was with told the bartender, who is his friend, that I wanted a drink with pomegranate syrup in it. And what did the bartender do? He delivered. Amazingly. I don't know what the hell he put in it. Well, let's just say I lost track. I saw him put some ice and a glass, turn a bottle of Sky over it and after that, it was a blur and random liquors upside down over my glass and then suddenly he topped it with a cherry and set it down on the bar in front of me. It. Was. Glorious. It tasted like a tart pomegranate, which made me happy. I don't care if it already has a name, it should be called a Pomegranate Sweet Tart. I like sweet tarts, I like pomegranates. It was heaven.

This all happened AFTER I'd just spent an hour dancing to amazing rock music at The Marquee, a venue a block a way. I danced and jumped and swung my hair around like a mad gypsy and it was beautiful.

My attention span won't go further than that I'm afraid. I'm going to watch Daria now.

Tally ho, laddy!