11.12pm
Monday
7 February 2005
Friday, I flew into the sunset to a grand weekend with the sweet Elena in Chicago.
She and B-dawg drank martinis and asked, "What? You got a problem with this rockstar lifestyle?"
"Whateva, I do what I want!"
"Aw, you guys... I'm totally wasted!"
Ben was pained by Brian's tragic hipness.
Lena welcomed us into her pretty apartment with yummy cocktails and bedroom lips.
Elena spoke candidly and with utter seriousness. Ben accepts the gravity of the situation.
The situation? Miss Lena's smile being of a higher priority than Mikie's!
Ben won my undying affection with some Beach Boys and Radiohead. A sensational combination that allowed much opportunity for drunken singalonging.
We decided that we were ready for our sitcom.
"Ahhh! We are too cute for our own good!"
Mike and Brian cuddled as they said good morning, sunshine.
Ben's got a little black in 'im.
Lena the fashion plate turns and smiles with a toss of her 'fro.
What what? We so stylin'.
We're fucking trashing the sitcom proposal and creating a reality show for the hot and happening twenty-something.
Lenasaurus is in charge here.
In charge of the STREETS. You can't really even touch this.
The descent into the depths of the Chicago underground made ever so sleek.
Though she still held on to the rockstar beauty, I'm pretty sure Elena is close to comatose in this picture.
"Don't tell me I'm squinting! I'M NOT SQUINTING."
"Don't. Ever. Stop."
The swanky ladies Lena and Monica got distracted from the fact that the light was totally green here.
And Brian tried to distract Monica again with his wily hands.
Mikie waved HI HI HI!
And then we got on the plane to ride back to plain old Atlanta.
And I was totally ready to jump onto the MARTA and ride my way home in the chariot of the people, the ride of choice for the poor and very poor alike, but instead I not only got a dramatic/romantic airport surprise, complete with roses, but it was from the actual person that I was currently missing THE MOST of all the people in all the world.