2003-09-08 - 12:29 a.m.

The party the Roommate and I threw was so successful on so many levels, but the best one was that everyone had fun. What a great way to spend a Saturday, and it was worth the effort.

Getting to talk to friends--getting to spend the time with them (for some of them, especially, when I�m not at work), and being on my own turf. I mean, I have some kickass friends.

By the way, I really really miss the Art Gurl and my S. And of course S. Just because I give absolutely no, and in any way, public indication that I miss the likes of these fine Americans doesn�t mean that I don�t.

Today I watched the Pats get creamed by the Bills, and it hurt me every time the announcers mentioned Lawyer Milloy. That move (and if you know what I'm talking about, you agree) was the stupidest sports-oriented play I've ever witnessed in my entire adult life, and I live in New England. I will not talk about this.

My parents took me to dinner in, of all places, Arlington. At a place called not your average Joe�s. My Dad had downloaded the menu off the internet--his first download. My ma had known what she was going to order for a month.

They had a gift card--I think they thought of me 'cause I know my way around there (and of course �cause they love me), and I know they left glad that they took me. My sister came too. It was fun--my dad kept calling the waitress honey and sweetheart, and asked for more dipping sauce (but only left 15%), and made a big announcement about a steak tip he was chewing on before he took it out of his mouth and put it on his plate (I tried one and I don't blame him--they were impossible). The restaurant looked like Pier 1 had a fire-sale. My ma put me on the spot again and urged me to go to "take classes."

I was massively relieved that she didn't ask about the birthday money she gave me to buy new glasses, which I desperately need (the money went to bills).

I had gotten my ma a gift cert to a nice restaurant in Harvard last Christmas (definitely doing it again, and including more family), and my folks took me and the Roommate out in return. It was a classy thing to do, and I gave 'em a textbook me performance, despite my party hangover. I had my dad, an economist when it comes to driving, up and down main streets to please my ma, a leisureist. The whole time, it was very weird to be in a car.

So--to sum up my Sunday?

Woke up with no regrets, even though I had thrown a party the night before, in the way-too-comfortable comforts of my own home.

Even though it feels like nothing, nothing feels better than waking up scott-free but too hungover to pat yourself on the shoulder.

The Roommate allowed me to watch sports. In my boxers. She fired up her new grill and made me the leftover shrimp her brother had brought, and some veggies.

When the game was over, I washed the kitchen floor--the hardest hit area of the apartment. I took out a total of probably seventy to eighty pounds of garbage between Saturday night and Sunday morning. We cleaned like banshees for the party, and we ended up having a better place to show for it, in the party's wake. Not bad. Again, pays off to have excellent friends.

My folks took me out to dinnah.

Got back, watched Sports Sunday with Butch Stearns, agreed with him for the thousandth straight broadcast, drank some beer, goofed around with the Roommate (which included turning a plastic bag into a tie).

It's like the ultimate Sunday. The woodpecker that won�t shut up didn�t carve my name into his tree-du-jour, true. Other birds didn't suddenly start unanimously calling my name. I had to sit through Bush's address to the nation (how could he get into double digits with billions with a straight face?).

But it was a good day for me, and I'm like Pac-Man when it comes to good days.

Happy to get through the level, but not satisfied with my achievements. Let's do it again, same environs, but faster, and see if I can fare better.

And maybe even eat a key.