Ich Liebe Dich, Emergen-C.

As Claire has noted, we attended a pretty great party for CITY last night. Excellent DJing by The Gorgeous Undertow and a dangerous amont of free tequila made for some dancing. By us. Hamish got some photographic evidence. He also took this very nice picture of myself and Josh.

Then we proceeded to The Knitting Factory to see Marty play saxophone with The Ks (whose restraint in apostrophe usage I greatly admire. Well done, Ks! I blow a kiss in your general direction.). On the way there, I leaned forward to rummage in my bag, the cab driver stopped short, and I cracked my forehead on the partition. Ouch!

Now, I always always always wear my seatbelt in cabs, because I've heard tell about "taxi face" or whatever it is that happens to people who do not buckle up in a taxi. It's likely that I'm the only person who calls it taxi face, but you get the idea. Anyway, the one time I forget to "click it," my forehead meets partition in an uncomfortable manner. I'm glad that I didn't take it on the nose or mouth, but I'm displeased about having an egg on my forehead. It makes the morning after just that bit more raw.

Let that be a lesson kiddies: Always remember to wear your seatbelt in a New York City taxi. Even when you've been drinking free tequila beforehand. Tequila does not make you invincible.

I was going to write a long post about food, but given the aforementioned raw feeling, it's gonna have to wait.

From now on, only weeknight parties featuring lemonade and petanque.