so early, so late

You don’t have to check the time of this post. I’ll tell you. It’s four in the morning.

I’ve learned an important lesson. When you decide to drink more Diet Coke than you have in about a year, it’s best not to do it at eleven at night. I’ve been trying to fall asleep for over four hours.

The show went well. Our friends are so nice; the place was packed. Many lingered after the show and we all went next door for a celebratory drink. Some had meals. I get too nervous before and after a show to eat, and you know, all money is going to the wedding, so we opted for the rare fast food meal on the ride home.

By eleven we were watching The O.C. because we’re that much of rock stars. It’s fitting that I was eating fast food at eleven at night after a performance. That’s what we used to do in Austin all the time, except it’d be after two in the morning and it was Whataburger and it was every single week instead of just this once. It didn’t used to make me stay up all night long. But tonight my jaw’s been clenched like some kind of raver kid. There were cats on my arm, cats on my legs, cats on my hip, and at one point Cal stepped in my ear. And this entire time? Snoop’s “Drop It Like It’s Hot” has been stuck in my head on loop. “Snoooooooooooooooo-ooop!”

At this point I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have much to do tomorrow, and I’m not exactly sure when I’m supposed to fit in some sleep. It doesn’t feel like it’s coming anytime soon. Man. I am wired. I have a can of Diet Coke maybe once a week, but tonight I drank an entire medium container, which was like some kind of Venti vessel and that was just dumb.

So the comments thread on yesterday’s post (today’s post. yesterday’s post!) included much love for the dress I was wearing… and my boobs in it. The bra is Victoria’s Secret (body collection, I think). The secret is letting other people measure and pick the bra out for you. I found out that my strapless size is a bigger back and a smaller cup than my normal bra size. Now, I still believe that Victoria’s Secret likes to tell me my bra size is the more commonly found size than mine is, thus creating more inventory for me to choose from, but I can’t deny that this strapless fits me well. Also, I have really great boobs.

“Snoooooooooooooooo-ooop!”

The dress I bought at Bloomingdale’s. It’s BCBG (and I know next to nothing about labels, but I seem to covet everything I see from (by?) BCBG). Liz helped me pick it out. I said to her, “I have two weddings in one month. One is my ex-boyfriend’s. It’s in New Mexico. The other is for a Manhattan couple who are way cooler than I am.”

“That requires a very specific kind of dress in order to pull both of those weddings off,” she said.

“What kind?”

“The kind that makes you look ridiculously hot.”

And, to be catty for a moment, if you’re going to attend the wedding of an ex, I highly recommend doing it with a fiance, a steady job, and a dress that makes people go, “Wow.” It was a very good time, and not just because I got the dress for almost half off. It was like the high school reunion I should have had. It was great to see all of the people again that were a part of my life for a very long time, whom I love so dearly; I got one last night where we all danced and sang and stayed up way too late.

Tonight my only late-night party peep is Taylor. He seems quite pleased I’m up for no reason.

You know, when I finished my chicken sandwich and pool of caffeine, stee said, “As long as you eat the food before midnight, there’s no need to feel guilty.” This is because I tend to get upset if we have to eat after nine.

“No guilt; I just have to stay up until four.”

And now: I’ve accidentally done that. When am I going to fall asleep? Ugh. I am an idiot.

“Snoooooooooooooooo-ooop!”

I guess I’ll go answer email until the sun comes up. Or try to read. That might make me sleepy. Then maybe I can catch a quick nap before the phone starts ringing tomorrow. We could find out all kinds of things tomorrow, about Aspen and Oxygen. Most likely we won’t, though. It’ll be another week of waiting. That’s okay; we’ve got this wedding to plan and at some point tonight I’m going to fall into a near coma.

Hopefully.