The Eye of Argon

I was feeling optimistic, and invited a few friends 'round on Friday night. They showed up with yummy food (acorn squash stuffed with rice, pecans, dried cranberries, various other bits of vegan lusciousness). We also made some nummy spinach empanadas, and for dessert some amazing dried apricot empanadas. And some fabulous wine was procured. I didn't have any, but from the contended mooing of the group, it was lovely.

I talked to the boys in the living room about the history of the Merchant Marine and the story behind Cimino's "Heaven's Gate." The Pirate ended up in the kitchen with the girls, telling them a little about the wedding and hearing various bits of gossip. I think I got the better end of that stick.

After dinner the group retired to the living room where we commenced to read "The Eye of Argon." Now I had heard of this piece of scifi history, but didn't think that it was capable ot living up to the reputation. Only after several expugnitive attempts at orally decoding this tale of a many-fauceted scarlet emerald sought by the barbarian slut Grignr did I realize the tales were all true. This is the funniest thing I have ever read.
It made me feel better about my own prose in ways that I never anticipated. And it drove home for me that old truism that every writing teacher ever will tell you on day one. Write what you know.

But the fun was paid for by the fact that I came to realize that I wasn't feeling as much better as I had thought. I spent much of the next day sleeping and did nothing of consequence. It was worth it.