I would like to disclaim, first and foremost, that I am drunk, drunk, drunk. Drunk blogging. An experiment. Because why not?

I haven't told all of you why I blog, and maybe someday I will. But I'll tell you right now, drunk as I am, part of how I try to blog, anyway.

Can we pause to give Ellie credit for managing to find the italics button, just then, drunk as she is? Thank you. Ok, continuing.

When I was in college, don't remember what year, kind of dragged the whole thing out to be honest, one of my creative writing teachers told me something that stuck. She said, Your writing should be a gift. You should always be giving a gift. No matter who your audience, or what your purpose. You should give something of yourself, she said. Or just find a way of expressing your idea that's particularly fresh, or funny. Innovate. Work hard to give a little extra, to your reader. Be vulnerable. Be smarter than they expected. Reveal something. Teach something. Share something beautiful.

That's what she taught me.

And for what it's worth, whether or not I'm hitting the ball, that's what I'm aiming at, people. I want to give. God, I fucking love writing. Do you know, that when I'm not writing, all I'm doing is thinking about writing? All day. That's all I think about. Things I want to write.

I'm drunk. And yet, all I want to do is write.


My friends.

I love them so much I could just cry. I am so lucky.

WeHo. Silliness. Laughter, so much laughter.

My dearest, darlingest Benji is going away to Bali soon, in just a week or so. I've not told you much about him, but he's amazing. He came to LA from Vancouver, looking to get work as a clothing designer, and do you know what he did? He basically walked in to the company he wanted to work for, bearing nothing but an incredibly intricate leather jacket that he'd created, and said, This. I can do this. Want to hire me?

And they did. And that's how he came to be here. He's so goddamn talented. And now he designs their clothing line. He also oversees production of it, in Bali.  And he designs high-end leather pieces for celebrities, which? Fun! Also, I get to sometimes be his fit model, which is far less glamorous than it sounds. It just means, lately, that I trek my ass over to the shop in the 90+ heat to try on some piece of clothing, hoping I'm not sweating too badly by the time I get there, so that he and his boss can see it on A Real Live Girl.

God I am so drunk.

Tonight. WeHo. Fubar? Micky's. The Abbey. Eventually, Akbar. Silliness and laughter and dancing. I love my friends so much. Benji is going to Bali until January, and I don't know how I'm going to survive without him. Already missing him like cray.

I want to be more coherent right now, I really do, but I can't. I'm exploding with feeling and thought and love and gratitude for the life that sometimes kicks my ass eight ways from Sunday.

And now, to reward those of you who slogged through this mortifying mess of a post, I'm going to get up, find my charger, and upload some absurd pics from tonight, before I sober up/lose my nerve.

Not that. That's not absurd The only thing absurd about that pic is how my dress is blousing out to make my breasts look like lactating double Ds. Here we go:

Yes, did you enjoy that? That's your blogmistress, hanging off of a light pole, in West Hollywood tonight, for laffs, just before the bus came to take us --- fuck, I don't remember where. Are you as shocked as me that I remain single, in spite of these obvious skills? UPDATE: Oh goody. Ben just sent me a third pic I didn't see before, best by far. Going to add it and size these bitches down, though, because good grief.

I make so many mistakes, every day. I do so, so much stupid shit. Constant self-sabotage. But the one thing I am really goddamn good at is making and keeping amazing, loving, brilliant, funny, and wonderful friends in my life.

I have to pass out now. Huzzah.