We were actually social n'such tonight! A friend from high school was in town all week, and we kept saying we wanted to get together but then we never followed through. Finally he called today and said "I'm getting LaRosa's [a local pizza place] for dinner and you're meeting me."

So we had pizza and then went down to a bar in my neighborhood. The bar is next door to a vintage clothing store, which we perused first. This was one of the few vintage stores I've been to that had more than 1 or 2 plus-sized items of clothing. I found a very short slutty hot-pink w/black plaid schoolgirl-type skirt. Not *my* thing at all, but The Boy has made noises about wishing I wore shorter skirts more often.

This is totally not a skirt I'd wear in public, but it is really cute in that aforementioned slutty way.

Then we went to the bar (this is the awesome bar w/an amazing beer selection, a kickass jukebox, and the burritos bigger than a baby). There was a random band playing -- kind of a weird amalgam of Radiohead and funk. Good bass. Saxophone. Faux Hammond organ.

I had one freaking beer and my IBS rebelled. So now we're back home and I'm trying to get my tummy to de-bloat. Stoopid IBS.

That sounds like ADD.

Mebbe!

In all seriousness, I'm not diagnosed, but considering my brother is, my mother is, my sister appears to be...

Yeah.

I was supposed to be tested, but they fucked up and tested me for autism instead. Which, you know. Made me look at them and say, "No shit, Sherlock." when they said "U R NOT AUTISTIC!" (I may be on the spectrum, but not where they were testing me.)

OK, I found the email address for the library student liason on the website, and I emailed her. Got a bounce-back email that that address doesn't exist.

Does the student newspaper have a tip line? An editor with an email address? Just a thought.

Tonight is the 2nd night of locking the cats out of the bedroom in preparation for the baby's arrival. It makes me feel so bad. My poor little Casper cries at the door for a few minutes and then goes and finds a place to lay down. It's almost sadder to me that he doesn't keep at it, but just gives up. He gets most of his cuddles when go to bed, so I know he's missing it. Still, we have to have a kitty-free sleeping space for the newborn. Hopefully they'll all get along well and we can have them back in the bedroom soon.

I think I might have gone drinking at The Comet when I was attending UC. It sounds really familiar.

Morning all. You were all very quiet overnight.

Have some QI to Wake Up With [link] , complete with Bill Bailey being himself in the background. (I actually heard Bill Bailey read the telephone directory at the Edinburgh Festival one year. Funniest thing I ever heard.)

Oh, yes, QI is a good way to wake up. Or at least an enjoyable way to be completely engronkified. Thanks, Seska.

GC I was worried about that myself when I had Frances as my kitty girl sleeps with me every night. But it wasn't an issue. The cat didn't want to be right next to the baby, whether she was awake or asleep. The cat tended to vacate our bedroom whenever there was a sleeping baby in it.

Seska-- I forgot to tell you you were in my dream Friday Night. You were explaing to me something about runaways. ( why I have no idea) Buffy was also in the dream, and Willow - but she was in comic form , not a real person. I have no idea what the dream was actually about.

Hec handled the Natter update, so here's my Bitches report on yesterday evening:

Matilda loved, loved, loved Emmett's play, mostly when Emmett was in it but intermittently the rest of the time too. Every time he appeared she cried out, "Oh, there's EMMETT!" and when he spoke as the voice of the magic toilet (it was that kind of play), she said loudly, "What's Emmett saying?" When he failed, as the Big Bad Wolf, to huff and puff down the toughest pig's house and fell over in a coughing fit, she called encouragingly, "Blow, Emmett! Blow, my brother!" And then when he didn't get up right away she wanted to run to him, and had to be convinced that he was only pretending.

When the two kids playing kids in the "dotty grandpa tells fractured fairy tale to his wee sproggins" framing device got in a shoving match with the kid playing the grandpa, Matilda said with great perturbation, "They're hurting him."

"No, it's all right," I whispered. "They're only pretending."

She frowned and said sternly, "Pretending to hurt him."

I really adore her beyond reason.