How the night starts

I type this while spread-eagle on my floor, crippled by jetlag + hangover. I type this unable to even see the keys clearly. And I type this giggling at every memory. See, while I am paying for it now, and may not even leave my hotel room today, last night’s foolery was well worth today’s payback.

Starting out at Beauty Bar, where I had a manicure with my martini, I coordinated a Metblog meetup with SF Metblog’s very own Sandra H. By the time she made it to Kilowatt, I was a few sheets to the wind, but she caught up fast.

Much was said, many were met, and I have little memory of either. Luckily, my camera phone does. Might you?

Mmm, random girl neck!

Home, James

And who are you, my pretty?

Midnight munchies