Ally McDork

This weekend consisted mainly of sweating and doing laundry.

Friday night, my husband and I stayed home and watched Devil's Playground. Well, he watched it. I watched almost all of it and fell asleep. I think I really am not meant to watch movies at home. At least not at night, after work, sprawled out on my couch, with the lights out.

Saturday, my husband and I impulsively bought the ARMOIRE! OM-WAH! It's cute. It's a "low profile" armoire, which basically means it's not one of those that is so big you can crawl inside it and have a party. It's just the right size for the disco duplex. We got a good deal on it, too. I can't find a good picture of it anywhere, though. Sorry; I know you're all just dying to see some random girl's new furniture.

Saturday night, my husband's band played a private party for a huge law firm in town. The party was for second- or third-year law students who are thinking about working for said mammoth firm. When the other two band wives and I heard that Mad Platter was catering the event, we decided that we were invited.

Private parties typically entail playing lots of cover songs. For the dancing, you know? Some of these I like a lot (Funk 49, for example). Some of them, not so much.

Anyway, the problem with this party was simple: no one wants to dance like an asshole in front of a bunch of stodgy lawyers who might be your bosses one day. Right? Except, none of those stodgy lawyers is going to be my boss. So the wives and I, feeling angry at the non-responsive, snotty audience, decided to take it upon ourselves to dance like assholes. Whoo!

Earlier that evening, we realized that not all of these law students knew one another, and they really had no way of knowing that we weren't law students, too (we are, by the way, a wannabe-librarian, an architect, and a stay-at-home mommy). This made for some goofiness later.

While we danced like assholes (all alone on the "dance floor" part of the outdoor plaza), I asked Kirsten (architect) if she thought our husbands were embarrassed by our wifely dancing. She said, "No, because we're lawyers!" This led to our drunkenly shouting things like "I object!" (when they started to play a song we didn't like), and "Order! Order in the Party!" (a bit of a stretch, I know). Good thing all the snooty, boring law kids were nowhere near the band to hear us. Good times.

Yesterday, I did about 386 loads of laundry. And honestly, about 88% of it was my husband's. I don't understand it. I change clothes every day, too. Why does he have so much freaking laudry? And why am I writing about this? So sorry. Other activities over the weekend included a quick but expensive trip to the Banana Republic outlet, some Pilates, and some slightly charred barbecue ribs.

emiloo at 2:05 p.m.