Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder

This was my favorite quote from this evening. No, I didn't drink any, although I smelled it. It smelled like Listerene, and from what I heard, it tasted like it, too. Anyway. The evening was perfect in its imperfections. Main imperfection: my dress never arrived in the mail. Go figure. Stupid postal service hates me and doesn't want me to go to masquerades. So today was a fun rush to borrow a dressy skirt, and a quick (amazingly quick) trip to purchase a dressy shirt, shrug, nylons and shoes (I bought shoes, mom! Pretty ones, that make me look good! Aren't you proud of me?). I ended up looking a whole lot nicer than I expected to, and my roommates did my hair to make me look like... fancy. They did my hair, then "booted 'er outta there" to get home for the weekend, leaving me with the task of getting dressed and makeuped on my own. I never thought I was good at doing makeup, but I looked prooty hot tonight. I was actually sad that I was going to wear a mask, because my face looked so nice! But the mask made the whole outfit that much more fun, and I did spend a good portion of the evening with the mask pushed up to the top of my forehead so I could see.

We had a lovely formal dinner, a fun speaker who gave a witty account of Edgar Allen Poe's life (the evening was called the Masque of the Red Death), door prizes (none of our party won anything), and great "19th century games," such as charades and do you love your neighbor. I didn't know that those games were such classical things, but we had good fun playing. The Outgoing Mexican lost another earring tonight, for which we are sad, but other than that and the fact that I was in an unexpected outfit, the night went perfectly. Once we got tired of the masquerade, we ran back to my car ("oh, it's not that cold out here..." *wind* "oooh, now it is- run, run!") and drove home to watch the Princess Bride up in my apartment. After the movie, the Outgoing Mexican realized that her earring was lost, and we went back to my car to look for it, to no avail. And now I'm writing about it all at 3:30 in the morning, with my hair all still done up and makeup clinging to my face. I'm too tired to undo it all, so I fear that I'll just have to go to bed like this, and wash the makeup and hairspray off my pillowcase in the morning.