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JD had booked a party of 14 for 7:30 at Ramblas Tapas in the Mission on Wednesday. Lacking proper lighting, I nonetheless got myself tidied up, with my hair partially down, and my usual star necklace replaced with a gorgeous piece from SpoonFed Art. (The star was still on my person; I don't tend to take it actually off. Sentimental value and all.) I even wore makeup! I decided against kitten heels because of San Francisco sidewalks. I set out, and arrived about fifteen minutes early. I was pulling out my phone and starting a quick text to JD to see if they had already arrived when they arrived. They'd just run into a mutual friend on the bus. We clarified that
chasethestars was likely to show up late and somewhat tipsy due to an event earlier in the evening. ;) We started gathering. We were getting ready to be relegated to the bar until at least half the party showed up when at least half the party showed up, and we were escorted inside and back into a corner with a series of tables. Owing to the nature of a tapas restaurant, we conspired over food choices (and started out with a pitcher of sangria). Two sips later, I was tipsy, and challenged
gorman's assertion that chasethestars was the most sensitive to alcohol at the table. Around the table, we had, starting from me in the back corner: me, Gorman's girlfriend,
gorman, arie, snarkbite, coffeechica, Nicole (iseebi?), jproulx, mcpatti, (eventually chasethestars), ferrell, jai_dit, teshiron, and then me again: 13 in total. Aside from JD, who I have known in person since 2006, and teshiron, who I met when he flew in, this was my first time meeting this group in person. When coffeechica came in from the smoking crowd, she and I had to hug each other and jump up and down and squee a bit. She has been bossing me around for years! ^_^ We ordered. We started off with the bread and the very tasty dipping sauce. The third table did not get a plate at first, and we declared that no one thought of the Early Adopters, to much hilarity. (It arrived, and the Early Adopters were appeased amidst much vinegar-and-oil-and-pepper and nice chewy bread.) There was gossip and shop talk. There is always gossip and shop talk.
When the Patatas Bravas arrived, they were an instant hit.
gorman loved them. 
Evidently
gorman has numbers for his silly expressions. Who knew! Gorman's girlfriend clarified that the tupshin thing is strictly an office romance, 9-5 only, and he's hers after those hours. :D 
As I am a compulsive blogger, I started taking notes in my little pocket notebook about all the general silliness.
gorman noticed. There was innuendo. Either
arie or snarkbite had ordered a plate that involved assorted slices of sausage-types of things: hard meat, in other words. I ate some of the hard meat. We all shared the hard meat. Ryan had salty balls. 
Ferrell had sausage. People ate Ferrell's sausage. Both
gorman and I had ordered Bistro Fillet, so people ate our meat. JD poured sangria with as little ice as possible, leading people to blame him for the ice stacking up in the pitcher.
The boys were being cute.
We know it's serious when the butter knives come out.
Someone proposed pole-dancing, but the available pole behind Nicole did not have clearance from the wall, and the poles in the other part of the restaurant had tables with people. Someone inadvertently made eye contact when pointing out the poles, and promptly hid from the curious gaze of the other table. The music had been turned up, perhaps to drown out our loud and cheerful (and probably slightly obscene) conversation. Not daunted, we talked louder to each other in order to be heard.
A rare photo including Patti in the background. Ferrell's hair may or may not be on fire.
There was Twilight meta. Someone had thrown the book across the room at one point or another. Stacey and I wanted to know who was more drunk. On two and a half glasses of sangria, I was fairly well toasted, and had started occasionally talking in Yoda syntax. That was enough for me; I switched to water and started to sober up, although the giggly continued.
We ordered dessert. Carrie got her limoncello. Snark is not in this photo. The wall-photo of a white poodle pooping is.
Dessert arrives!
The tuxedo cake was quickly converted to a leaning tower, with several eager spoons making short work of its structural integrity.
gorman liked his churros. 
Gorman's girlfriend didn't want a picture of him fellating his churro, however.
There was dancing to assorted pieces of music, including Mr. Big Stuff.
Eventually the party broke up. A contingent went to a bar for dancing. Most of the out-of-town contingent hopped a taxi for their hotel. I headed back for BART. It was still relatively early, but late enough that I had the car essentially to myself for the last segment of the trip. I considered dancing on the train, just for fun. I did do a few twirls, hanging on to the overhead bars, but my knees were a little too upset, and I started to feel a little foolish, so I didn't do too much of that. I did twirl out of the train when it hit my stop, and giggled all the way back home.
Larger versions of select pictures
