dare you to move (and stay out after 8 p.m.)

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i like to think i have a pretty rigorous social life. i mean, most of it revolves around eating, but you know,#sorryimnotsorry about that, a gal’s gotta eat, and it might as well be in the company of some pretty stellar humans. plus, i have to keep up my title as head of the unofficial marketing campaign for urban plates.

(you’re welcome, urban plates mucky mucks, you’re welcome).

but despite the fact that i have managed to fill my calendar with weekly life-update-dinners with my nearest and dearest of late, i am always careful to not allow our meeting for eating extend past 8 p.m.

because much like cinderella’s carriage, i turn back into a pumpkin most evenings after that elusive hour (weekends give me a bit more leeway, but not much). and if i racked my brain for a plausible explanation for said phenomenon it would probably be a combination of the fact that i live in what is essentially egypt, i arise from slumber at an hour most people would find cruel and unusual punishment, and well, i like to get home before gossip girl (i know it’s called a DVR and i have one, but what if i WANT to see all of those Holiday commercials?).

basically i don’t have a plausible explanation, and i’m lame and you might as well take me for a tapioca pudding and a game at bingo at the community center.

but if last night’s activity -one, i might add, that not only extended past the 8th hour (or the 20th if we’re on military time) but well into the 10th (again, or 22nd) instead, then, i might be earning back my non-granny status just yet.

because last night, accompanied by two of my bests and one who shared my time at 838 academy drive (holy fortuitous high school reunion batman), i attended the rob machado foundation benefit concert at the belly up. with performances by johnny rzeznik of the goo goo dolls (and possessor of really really great rock ‘n roll hair) and jon foreman of (as if he needs an introduction) switchfoot. a guy name john swift also played and though he’s not as famous as the aforementioned john/jons, he was quite good and can play a mean banjo!

obviously you need no convincing in believing that the musical performances were stellar, and while jon foreman’s solo renditions of some of switchfoot’s finest were all too brief, the overall event was a blast, great for people watching (so uh, people really do meet in a bar, don’t they?), and duh, raised a lot of money for a great cause.

also, can we talk about how blue rob machado’s eyes are?

The

the point of this story isn’t to brag about how my monday evening may or may not have put yours to shame (because that would just be mean even if it is true, I’m KIDDING), but rather to serve as a reminder to yours truly that life exists (and quite fabulously, I might add) past 8 p.m. on a “school night” (we can still call it that despite the fact that gone are the days of lunch pails and times tables),

in fact, not only does life exist outside the confines of an 8 p.m. curfew, but it thrives, too.

the ironic thing is that despite my affinity for returning home at such a relatively early hour, there have been
many, MANY a night where i’ve managed to prolong my departure for slumberland until the wee hours of the morning -doing nothing of high significance, watching old episodes of real housewives of beverlyhillsatlantamiami

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