You know how I bitch all the freaking time about how we don’t have any friends here? And how I’m all lonely ‘n shit?

Well, there’s this person we know from the East Coast. We weren’t really good friends with her there; her then-boyfriend was part of the-boys-who-go-way-back-together (which also included Jason, Bad Idea, and the Squirrel). We saw them a lot at parties, invited them to parties, drank at their house, things like that. But I wouldn’t have said we were exactly “friends.” Anyway. She lives very near here, in Big-City-Over-There. We’d been planning on getting together for months, but never really motivated to do it.

So last night we made plans to get together in the evening. We ordered dinner in, and she and GB had a glass of wine. And then more wine. And then some beer. And then a lot more beer. And it was fun, hanging out with her–more fun than I thought it would be, honestly. It was just nice to hang out with a friend, really. And I was happy about it, after all my bitching, even though I had to drag my sleepy pregnant ass off to bed by midnight, leaving them drinking and listening to music and having fun. Still, it was nice to fall asleep to that.

Except that she and GB got really really drunk, and she decided to sleep on the couch–also totally cool with me. But then this morning? GB dragged his hungover ass to work, and she kept sleeping. And then she’d wake up, and ask me what time it was, and go back to sleep. On the couch. A couple feet from my desk, where I was theoretically supposed to be writing (although I was just fucking around with the baby registry, but whatever–I was *supposed* to be working).

And dudes. She did not leave my house until almost 11:30. And I was like, oh my god, is she EVER going to leave?

So yeah. I whine about having no friends, and then we have one friend over, and then I get all crazy because she won’t leave.

I am clearly an ingrate.  It’s probably for the best that all my friends are long-distance and virtual.