my fridge used to be a testament to my young hip life. it chronicled all the fun i was having with my young hip friends and consisted mostly of pictures of us in varying states of intoxication, interspersed with racy commercial art and postcards from the exotic places we were all traveling. but times change, and now my fridge has become a shrine to those same friends' babies. not that they aren't the extraordinarily cute offspring of people who are very important to me... but it's getting a little ridiculous, given that i still function at the level of "ohmigod, billy asked me to the dance(!)" or, at best, "monsoon has $5 lychee martinis on wednesdays!"
i take a little solace in the apparent fact that my silly antics serve as a constant source of amusement to my blogmate, dwtacc, and twinset, who are willing to not only listen to me carry on about said topics, but often act as accomplices. for one thing, it makes me a feel a little better about my failure to evolve into adulthood... and "hey [n#4], a bunch of us are going out for beers tonight," requires me to fabricate entourage on short notice.
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