Tomorrow is going to rock so ridiculously hard.

I've been a reader of This Blog for quite awhile now. After a few emails back and forth I got to know the guy behind it (as well as you can between emails and the occasional IM).

So you can imagine my excitement when he said he's coming to Chicago for a Sox game. Do the Sox suck? Of course they do. But that means I get to meet up with one of the funniest guys on the planet.

Fucking score.

Like one of my friends said. "He's survived cancer, Clare. Don't you think he's suffered enough?".

If he wants to hang out with me, I think its obvious that the answer is "No."

Hopefully one of us gets a good story out of it. Both of us if we manage to stay out of the clink.

I think the majority of my friends back home have lost their minds. Seriously.

I woke up this morning to my friend D screeching into my cell phone. If history has told me anything, D being up early means one thing: She has done something stupid.

Now, she's one of my best friends and I feel comfortable calling her a dumb ass on the internet, because this is nothing I haven't said to her face regularly throughout our friendship. I love her, but if there is any possible way she can either break something or hurt herself, she will. It makes life interesting, and is the reason we don't allow her near fire.

But I digress.

She called me this morning shrieking like one of the girls on Flava of Love because her boyfriend proposed to her. As in, my clumsy, weird, irrefutably bitchy friend is getting married.

Part of me is really happy for her, the other part of me that is over protective is going "You've been with him less than 5 months." Being one of her best friends, I balls out told her that.

Her response? "Clare, it's one of those things you just know."

One of those things you just know. Says the girl who can barely keep from setting herself on fire when she goes on smoke breaks.

The thing is, I am happy for her. It's just strange. My best friend is a daddy. D is getting married. Other friends have careers. I'm just wondering when the hell we all grew up.

We've gone from tattoos, drugs, and keggers to careers, babies and marriage. It's not a bad thing, bit part of me misses the lack of responsibility.

Anyway, congrats D. May you make his life a living hell for many many years to come.

I know this is late, I'm a chode like that.

Happy late birthday to my heterolifemate.

You're the best friend a cranky blogger could ever ask for, and I love you.

Oh, and you're old.