Reborn from a congealed puddle of tator tot grease

My throat hurt as I drove away from Grumpy’s at an entirely too late hour of the night. It was from screaming about how sexist Twilight is. Peabo’s voice probably doesn’t hurt because she’s all calm, cool, and collected in her arguments.

Part of the pain was caused by the laughter.

And the tator tots didn’t help any either.

It was a glorious night out with my writing comrades and it made me realize how very much I miss taking classes at The Loft. When Hypester Mom and Vodo went on and on about how good their class is, I wanted to chew off my arm in jealousy.

But then Vodo shot an arrow right through my heart. “You wrote a second person story?” He asked, crinkling his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” I said. “You actually read it.”
“Oh.” He tried to hide behind his bottle of Leinies.
“I hate you,” I said, and probably gave him the finger.

It’s nice to know that my writing is so memorable.

But the night, the night was glorious. Jags was there too. She had just finished reading Atonement and was like a born again, preaching the wonder of Ian McEwan.

Peabo was all centered and confident now that she’s a chakra-aligning Yogi.

Hypester Mom was just so happy to have someone to eat tator tots with she didn’t even know what to do with herself.

And then we brainstormed ways to save The Loft from ruin.

Glory, glory on high I am reborn. The evening has re-energized me.

It’s weird how much I’ve missed spending time talking about books and writing with people without even realizing it. But I did miss it and I cannot wait for summer classes at The Loft.

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3 Comments

  1. the TThM 27.Mar.09 at 10:27 pm

    mmmm…congealed puddled of tator tot grease…why isn’t tator tot one word?

    Reply
  2. the TThM 27.Mar.09 at 10:28 pm

    note to self: no more drunkern posts on I Will Dare…

    Reply
  3. david 29.Mar.09 at 9:45 am

    FYI: in the southern US, the accepted spelling is “tater tots” (at least on school menus).

    Reply

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