Sexy in the City (Minus Unavailable Men)

So many amazing friends: Work friends, best friends, old friends, new friends, friends of friends. It takes so long to adjust to a new place, faces, ways of life, and then suddenly you look around and think: This is where I live.

The next time someone asks, in that inviting conversation way that polite people tend to ask questions, "Where are you from?" I'll respond with an enthusiastic gloat, "San Francisco." Though it's even more true than I realize; my great-grandparents--the oldest generation in my family that I ever knew--settled in SF after their long voyage from other countries. My ancestral roots have planted themselves firmly in this city.

Although after the delightful debauchery of this weekend, I'm not sure if those roots want to associate with me, or the likes of my friends for that matter. Okay, it wasn't so bad. Actually, it was really fun. There's nothing better than being around people who you know you can have a great time with, and who if you, say, fall over a couch or "lunge" on to a dance floor in a way that both simultaneously spills your drink on a person and damages your knee cap (possibly permanently), makes sure that the said incident is remembered as funny as opposed to what it might have been without your friends: pitiful.


And it was a riotously funny time, and yes, we rode a limo home on Friday night, and hell yes, we didn't have to buy one drink, not one.
(Though some of us couldn't partake in the free beverages because of concerned boyfriends, I mean, ahem, overly-zealous pre-partying). But it was still that good.

Big cheers to all of the gorgeous participants, those in the city, and those who actually had to make a real effort to enjoy it. Thank god we're finally wise enough to know the effects of shots, but young enough to take them anyways.