It started on Tuesday, this thing in my throat and this headachey-ness, but I staved it off by sheer force of will, as I would NOT be kept from Blogtoberfest by some damn virus. Sometime last night, however, while slowly processing the four-ish (ok, ten) (just kidding, five.) vodka cocktails (six, six, FINE, six, are you happy?), my body threw its hands in the air and, with a flurry of curses, succumbed to the cold. (five.)

I’m spending today on the futon with the computer on my lap watching Grey’s Anatomy and drinking tea.

But it’s worth it, because last night? WAS AWESOME. I met Jenny on purpose, basked in the splendor of Sarah‘s new pumps, drank wine courtesy of Bostonist incarnate (and about that, seriously, I’ll write something soon), chatted with the incredibly effervescent tom, and now my head hurts from making all those links. And hey, I made new friends too, like Lori and Jaynie and Caity and Hooker, who took my dear friend Shanna for her first-ever motorcycle ride.

Wow, hi name-dropping, enough of that. Picture this, instead: I walk into the bathroom with a name tag pinned askew in the center of my chest, and there are these four tall, thin, beautiful specimens of the female sex. And they all turn to look at me and are like “what’s that – blocktoberfest?” And I’m like, “no, BLOGtoberfest – like, blogs. We all read each other’s, um, blogs and stuff, so we’re drinking. Like, together. In real life.”

blank stares.

“um, personal websites? Blogger, you know?”

blank stares.

then one of the girls chirps, “you mean, like MySpace?”

I’ve never once in my life felt so geeky, ungainly, and impossibly superior all in one shot. It was amazing.

So yes, today I am beaten, but last night was worth it. Except for the martinis. Note to Match bartenders: LAY OFF THE PEACH SCHNAPPS. You could kill someone with that shit, for real.