Friday night was Ladies’ Night at Casa Toast (or as I preferred to call it, VaginaCon ’06). In which there was much drunken exuberance and junk food and mulled wine with some of my good buddies of the vaginal persuasion. Also, there was a slightly staggery trip to Bobby Baker’s to take in the general neighborhoody bar-ness, of which I seldom tire in the Waldo-hood.
The only mild disappointment of the evening was a lack of the usual goombahs that frequent BB’s. By “goombahs” I mean the local velour-track-suited junior mobsters sporting giant pinkie rings. Bless them, they’re so obnoxiously entertaining, and very friendly in the buying-the-lady-a-drink department.
Maybe there’ll be more next time. Because -- oh yes! -- there will be a next time again soon. Even though my liver spent most of Saturday crying out for a break in the weekend booze onslaught, and possibly justice and revenge as well. Poor thing, I was too busy giggling myself into an aneurysm to pay any attention.