I took a moment away from whining to my friends on gchat to grab some turkey chili I made the other day and put three Blue Moon Winter Ales by my bed. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT THEY’RE IN THE FRIDGE FOR, RIGHT?
So now I am having those things in bed. Circa 4:30pm EST.
They set up a night for us at The Creek and I was expecting to do an improv show and hang out, but lo and behold:
The Story Pirates performed a story I wrote when I was 9 years old, called “Three freinds in California” [sic] and I had no idea they would be there. I cried harder than when the bus moves on Extreme Home Makeover.
About 15 fabulous Chicago improvisers were secretly invited and we did a super fun set together.
M.A.D. did a hilarious set as well.
Boys Club ended the night with some ridiculous nonsense and it was just the best time ever. I’m hoarse.
My friends are amazing. I am going to miss New York.
This happened and it was fun. My roommate is moving away. Barf.