Watching: Absolutely nothing for the past five days. What's going on in the world, anyway?

Reading: Scarlet Feather, by Maeve Binchy. I finished it this morning at my friend Gillian's apartment while I was waiting to leave for the airport. I left it behind as a thank-you for letting me hang out there, and immediately regretted it.

Checking: My stats. Interesting search terms of late (linked to the entries they return): kansas city pantyhose; vanity fair pajamas, how to pronounce kate spade; pictures of birth control containers, germs found in tanning beds; irish flag for the sims; pesky truth.

I also get a bunch of hits for various celtic tattoo searches, and also my dear Eddie.

Chatting: With Jessamyn for like two hours on Wednesday! Jessamyn is the coolest person in the world.

Public Service Announcement to Readers of Entertainment Weekly Who Have Not Yet Seen Insomnia but Were Planning On It: Do NOT read the Robin Williams interview in the current issue (cover story is about special effects). Spoilers without warning piss me off.

I must take a moment of your time to extol the virtues of the wondrous airline known as Midwest Express.

I had heard other people rave about it, but I had never flown it myself until this trip back to Kansas City. When I went online to book my ticket, I found I could go on United for $180, with one stop on the way there and two (two!) on the way back. So I scrolled down a little further and discovered that for twenty bucks more, I could fly non-stop both ways on ME. Given what I had heard, I decided it was worth it.

And it was! First of all, there are no middle seats, woo. Two seats, a window and an aisle, on each side, and they are business class seats -- wide, pleather, with the trays in the armrests in between the seats so no part of your body needs to touch your seatmate's. (Unless you wanted it to, I suppose.) The flight attendants are incredibly polite without crossing the line into obsequiousness (okay, how long have I wanted to use that word?).

The food is positively delicious, better than any airline food has ever been. On the early-morning flight from DC on Thursday, I had a cheesy Louisiana omelet with spicy sausage and cornbread for breakfast, along with complimentary champagne. On the way back, for dinner, there was pastry-covered chicken stuffed with some kind of crumbly cheese (feta, maybe?) on a bed of rice with a piece of lime cheesecake for dessert, along with complimentary white wine. (They usually have red, too, but something went awry with catering and someone spent like five minutes on the P.A. system apologizing for the lack of cabernet.)

Anyway, I'm just saying that if there's only a twenty dollar difference between the fares, go with Midwest. (As I read in the airline magazine, they will be dropping the "Express" from their name in 2003.) They rock.

And on an unrelated note, I was not aware that on flights going out of National Airport, you are required to remain seated until you have been in the air thirty minutes. Likewise, on the way back, we got a heads-up from the captain when we had 45 minutes to go, and then when we had a half-hour left, he told everybody to sit down. I mean, it was clearly a bigger deal than just paying attention to the fasten seat belt sign, which you can normally ignore without serious consequences if you really need to. But I was sitting in the gate waiting to get on the plane on Thursday morning, and the attendant came over the loudspeaker saying that we were getting ready to board and since we had to stay seated for a half an hour, now would be a good time to use the facilities if need be.

I mean, it's obvious why, but still. Weird.

So, the wedding. My third maid of honor gig ever, and my third wedding in a little over a year. (Please don't get me wrong. I'm honored, so to speak, to be a part of weddings. But I'm glad that I'm finished with them, at least for the foreseeable future, as all my closest friends are either already married or as single as I am.)

Thursday was spent mainly running errands with the bride. Friday, I ran a little airport shuttle (and no, I was not actually driving a bus, in case you were wondering), which is always fun, especially when you are sent to pick up someone you've never met or even seen a picture of. Unfortunately, her plane got in early, so I was left to wander around the baggage claim meeting the eyes of every woman standing alone until I recognized the expression of someone looking for someone she hasn't seen before either.

She was very nice, an old high school friend of the bride's, and we had a very pleasant ride back to the house where we were both put to work before heading out to the rehearsal, which went fine, and the rehearsal dinner at the groom's sister's house, where Elise and I proved how retarded we can be without even drinking. Never have I felt the desperate need for a digital camera as badly as I did at that table.

(They did have wine there, but it sucked, and fortunately someone tipped me off that the groomsman was a distributor for this wine before I announced that it sucked too loudly.)

The wedding itself went off without a hitch, as did the reception. We did have a bridal party dance, and let me tell you, the best man was the biggest wet noodle I've ever met. Talk about someone completely devoid of personality. It was quite astonishing.

But generally, a good time was had by all. The groomsmen kept crashing the wedding reception next door to ours (it was huge), getting people to take their pictures with the table cameras and getting beer from their bar. Toward the end of the evening, a group of us KU grads ditched the actual reception for the hotel bar and had some fun of our own. Elise took me back to the bride's house, I took a shower, threw the last dress I hope to buy for a long time in the corner, and slept for four hours, until I had to get up to return the high school friend to the airport the next morning.

I hung out with Elise and her family on Sunday, until we met Gillian in the middle of a thunderstorm, so I could go stay with her, since she lives close to the airport. We rented The Royal Tenenbaums and ate Nutella. I hung out and did a couple of loads of laundry (OxyClean is an amazing product, people) then called a cab and headed back to my real life, which includes a disconnected phone, which apparently happens when you don't pay the bill. That'll make a nice impression should anyone have tried to call to offer me a job today.

Real life sucks.

Meanwhile, you may have heard already that Melissa spent the weekend in my apartment with her friend Gabriel, seeing some Sondheim at the Kennedy Center.

I checked in with her Sunday afternoon, just as she was leaving the city, and was horrified to discover that her car stereo had been stolen when she was parked outside my apartment. How will I ever get anyone to visit me now? I haven't even been here three months and there's already been a homicide (a husband killed his wife three buildings down from me), and now some vandalism against one of my friends.

If you read her entry, though, they seemed to be very courteous vandals, not destroying the wires, not stealing any of her CD's, and re-locking the door when they had finished ripping off her stereo. She said she was parked right behind me and looked in my car, but everything seemed to be okay.

And I must say that if you ever have the opportunity to allow Melissa to stay at your house when you aren't there, you should certainly take advantage of it. I walked in tonight and saw no evidence that anyone had even been here except for a box of Oreo Cookie Bars sitting on my counter and five Cider Jacks and a bottle of chardonnay in the fridge. She took some stuff that belonged to her and left some stuff that belonged to me, but otherwise, everything was the same. Perfect houseguests.

So, I wrote all this last night at like 2 in the morning because I can't sleep, and I finally went to bed at around 3:30 and then woke up at 6:00 because my cat freaked out about something. I thought I heard some kind of crash, but when I got up and investigated there was nothing out of place, so I must have dreamed it. But she was still spazzing out, so I ended up shutting her out of my room in an effort to get a little more sleep, but since I had just gotten home after being gone for five days, this made her a little unhappy and she decided to tell me about it until I opened the door. So I gave up, came downstairs, had some coffee, dozed on the couch, and now I'm sitting at the computer being all kinds of productive.

Right.


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