What would Ms. Bradshaw do?
She would drink.
She would call her BFs
And, she would go out and reaffirm her life.

Well, we drank, we chilled, and we went to the Mod Club.

D got passed off while P was dealing with her woman sleeping in the same bed as another and I, well, I my little KC faithfuls, just danced.

And I, minus my pretty pearl necklace- which is MIA.

The theme for the evening was blurred by personal drama, terrible fashion sense and the ability to shake it like a polaroid picture to bubbles moving gently through the airy melancholy of Radiohead. Yes, the evening was a white tastic salute to pop rock and rock pop from the 80's to present.

While the scene was peppered with confused dancers, grinding sans direction I was more concerned with the state of my hair, and the lift of my chest, to take much notice to the girls giving me cut eye for dancing like my life depended on it.

This is after intense preparty car karaoke-ing.
In which I killed.
Harmonies and shit.

It was a good night.
We made it fun.