I think you know what I mean

I've been listening to Lyle a lot lately, and since I can never come up with a good title for posts, I'll just be using his lyrics for a while. Good ol' Lyle.

Last night after a DEPThS meeting with an exceptionally large turnout (upwards of 12 people, including the founders) despite a consistent lack of advertising, I got invited to Il Spazio for $1 well drinks night. So I spent my evening sipping on a Shirley Temple with people whose company I love, talking about zucchini and dark matter. Despite the fact that I was the only person there not at least 21, I still had a blast.

I wore my sparkling blue skirt with the silver threads and my pearls. The moon on my ankle shone. More than one person noticed my efforts at dressing nice. I don't wonder that I made someone jealous as my attention bounced back and forth across both sides of the table.

(I'm not trying to brag, I just rarely get to look nice, so it's fun when I do.)

Well, young man, you can't mean her.
Why, didn't you hear?
She got married and moved off to Chicago,
and her husband's so handsome
and she just loves it up there.
His family owns a newspaper and an opulent disco.