Good evening, all. It's 11:30 on Sunday night and I am watching Malcolm in the Middle, which my Fox affiliate kindly chose to air now, rather than pre-empt it entirely, because they aired the pre-season Chiefs game earlier. It will be followed by the repeat of a relatively lame episode of The X-Files, but I will probably leave it on anyway while I'm skulking about the internet.

(One random note about my little show: the writers apparently enjoy coming up with names for sheriffs. Tonight, it's Sheriff Harden; last season, there was a Sheriff Hartwell. Say them out loud and see if you can figure it out.)

I had quite an enjoyable weekend, thank you for asking. My friend Gillian came up from Wichita. I haven't seen her in three years, since I passed this way during my drive from California to Pennsylvania in 1997.

What I love about Gillian is that she's not the get-up-and-go type. She's more of the lie-around-watching-movies type. I remember a couple of times when she came to visit me in Los Angeles, and that's all we did. Sometimes, that's just nice. (Not that the last two weeks have been anything but the lie-around type, but whatever.)

So she got here Friday and we went out to dinner with Mary and Tara. She actually went to high school with Tara, which is how I know her, but Mary had never met her before, so that was cool. Mary offered to help Gillian, a recent grad-school grad, get a job at her company here, which would be cool.

We got up Saturday and the four of us met again for breakfast at this great restaurant called Georgie Porgie's. It's a complete greasy spoon with great food, but horrible service. They make up for it by seating you next to shelves and shelves full of old crap, like toys, magazines, records and games from years gone by. By far the funniest moment of the morning is when Tara reached under her chair and pulled up the New Kids on the Block poster puzzle. I had a good time looking at an old Los Angeles visitor's guide, complete with restaurant listings and a map to the stars' homes.

Mary ditched us to go veg by the pool, so Tara and Gillian and I went to see What Lies Beneath. (No spoilers here; I'm easily entertained so I rather enjoyed it. All I will say is that it should have ended about twenty minutes before it actually did.)

We were still full from brunch but ate cake at Starbuck's anyway, so we skipped dinner completely. We met back at Mary's apartment and Gillian taught us how to play Euchre.

Yes, I realize it's completely lame for four single women to spend a Saturday night playing cards, but I love doing that. After a round of Euchre, Mary left to go to her dog/housesitting gig, and the three of us stayed in her apartment (basically because we were too lazy to come back to mine) and played Hell.

Hell is one of those games that you probably played, in one variation or another, during the summer you were 12. (I played something close called "Spit.") Each player has one deck of cards. You make a pile of 13 face down, then flip the top card over and lay four cards, face up, in a row next to the pile. Then you basically play group solitaire. You can move the cards around in front of you according to general solitaire rules (alternating red and black in descending order). You flip the pile in your hand three cards at a time, and put all the aces in the middle. The trick is that any player can play off on any ace. (You'll get called all kinds of names by beating someone who was also trying to play off a three of clubs.) The goal is to get rid of your pile of 13. Once all those cards are played out, you call out "Hell", and then the other players count the cards they have left in their pile. Double that and subtract from the number of cards you've played off in the middle for your score.

We played until almost midnight. It's fast and furious and loud and frustrating (especially because negative scores are possible) and totally took me back to my childhood summers playing Spit with my cousins. I love to play cards, and I don't have many friends who enjoy it, so any time I get a chance to play, I'm completely happy.

I think I've told this story before, but when I lived in L.A., I used to spend at least two Friday nights a month playing cards with four co-workers, all women over 40, and I had a great time. We'd smoke and drink and eat junk food and play (for money, of course) until 2:00 in the morning. I really missed it after I left.

Huh. That probably speaks volumes about the causes of my non-existent social life.

Gillian and I chatted until almost 2 last night, slept until 10, had breakfast, and watched Four Weddings and a Funeral before she left for home. I had forgotten how funny that movie was. (Favorite line: "I think I need to be where other people aren't." I feel that way all the time.) After she left, I went on a completely horrid shopping excursion in search of a dress to wear to my cousin's wedding. I came home empty-handed and totally depressed and read Harry Potter for three hours.

I then watched a two-hour Inside the Actor's Studio with Billy Joel (who, as far as I know, has never acted, but who cares). Two observations: (1) Billy Joel is really quite funny. His imitation of every piano bar player who plays "Piano Man" after spotting him in a club had me laughing out loud. (2) James Lipton could not be a bigger kiss-ass if he tried. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, but he takes fawning to an unprecedented level.

Ugh. A thoroughly chronological entry.