This post is, unfortunately, rated PG-13...

So it's been a busy week. Productive, and yet oh-so procrastination-filled.

Irish and I have been threatening for years to go to the gym, and we actually dragged our sorry butts into Frog's not once, but twice this week. We literally had all we needed in our trunks for an impromptu gym session. Interestingly, we also have everything we need in our respective trunks for any formal occasion, including wedding crashing. We have a lot of junk in our trunks. Hence, gym is a necessity.

I learned this week, that what happens when the journalists leave the newsroom, should stay out of the newsroom. Everything was going grand at karaoke, in honour of Silver's birthday. I was dressed like a $2 hooker, screwdrived on the subway, and made a grand entrance, fashionably late (in my typical Veronica fashion) to the tune of "kisses for everyone"!

(I'm not drunk until I have a catch-phrase. 'Kisses for everyone' is considerably less dangerous than 'yes to everything!')

It was $3.50 drink night. Dangerous.  


Brown ventured upstairs to check out the dance-floor situation. She came running down the stairs, excited, "The dance-floor is empty! We can control the DJ!"

And sure enough, we discovered that the only human being upstairs, in fact, was the DJ. What a pro though. He was spinning and announcing like there was some big crowd there. Not just a bunch of wasted journalists.

I don't think that I ever want to go dancing ever again unless I can get my own private dance-floor.

And let me tell ya. Things got inappropriate. There was booty-shakin' and booty-smackin. Guy, girl, in the dark, it didn't matter. And the grinding. What can I say? I hear the sweet call of the reggae, and suddenly I'm a 18-year-old whore all over again. (Sidebar: working out at the gym has really strengthened my leg muscles. I could've winded and grinded all night long.)

I ended up going home with Red. Not the ginger I was expecting to share my bed with, but delightful all the same. I did a good-deed, and proved to myself that I can have successful platonic interactions with members of the opposite sex. (Jeez, I deserve a medal for all this self-control!)

And after all, isn't this the semester of Organization, Productivity, Good-deeds and "Research"?

Ya, I know, sounds boring.

But speaking of "research", went on date numbah four with TeacherMan.

Oh, I'm sorry, were y'all not properly introduced?

Have I been keeping secrets from ya?

It took all my self-control, but managed to successfully keep my pants on. (Can someone please give me a medal, or a trophy, or, ooooh, howsabout a crown.... Veronica Blake... whore-no-more!)

And I uhhh.... may uhhh... have propositioned him? By uhhhh.... using the Silver-voice? (which sounds an awful lot like Stewie from Family Guy) Sooo... uhhhh... I guess uhhhh.... we'll just have to wait and see? What uhhhh... happens?

Don't knock the Silver-voice. It's successfully lead to laid on three separate occasions.

There are at lease 17 different reasons why I'm ending with this.