Rather than ruminate...a J story again

I was going to sign on today, a dreaded Monday, after an incredibly eventful and social weekend and talk about how rural North Carolina was casting a blight upon my very soul. About how all I want to do is go on business lunches and interview interesting people who think I, too, am interesting, and about how I seem to be suffering from a period of unnecessary but pressing grief regarding the whole "I'm 27 what should I be?" question. About how my one spot of joy today (since I didn't get a delicious cup of coffee in an effort to quell the anxiety I seem to have inherited from my father THANKS DAD!) was picking up the keys to our new place. Our soon-to-be home with the turquoise door and the porch with two white rocking chairs that gives me the opportunity to pack and thus perform massive spring cleaning! Throwing things away! A clean slate! I was going to write about all that but instead I thought I'd share how yesterday when we all went to get breakfast after the incredibly social Saturday with all the guests - how we were standing outside Elmo's, starving, and J got a copy of the Independent newspaper and there was a big cover story about poverty in North Carolina. And I said "Oh man. There's been a lot of press about poverty in North Carolina yesterday. Have you been listening to NPR?" And J, whose eyes didn't even shift in my direction turned to the back page with all the crazy advertising, pointed to one in particular and said to Tom, "Sex toy party."

It's called a "party bus." We're already in trouble.

Today is my friend's birthday and to celebrate we're meeting up at her place tonight and then are going to get into a big vehicle with a refrigerator and a good sound system and be driven around the Triangle while we get drunk. Yes! It's totally legal. The party bus people are going to take us out on the town. I'm not sure whether or not I should admit this, but I've been on the party bus before. It was Carrie's bachelorette party and we girls got on that bus with serious supplies including a kick ass mixed CD featuring R. Kelly's "Ignition (remix)" which I soon learned was the best song ever, EVER written, especially because it features the oft-repeated chorus "Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce." Don't think we weren't singing that out the windows in Raleigh to all the lesser-folk who had to use their own vehicles or feet to get around.