A great night, but for the puke

When I get a good night's sleep it's gonna be great. Let's hope for tonight...
Left my apartment (for the first time) at about 6:15 to catch the bus downtown for the Oratorio for Aids Opera. The bus dropped me off at Georgia and Burrard. I really enjoyed the first part of the ride during which a loudmouthed and totally oblivious slut screamed at her friend about Matt and Sarah and Cayley and how one was two-timing the other and doing something or other to make someone else jealous and how... whatever. I didn't give a shit. It must be an exhausting occupation to be a sixteen year old these days. When I was sixteen I was chubby and studious. I didn't have a boyfriend, but I made the honor roll often. I lost the weight and retained (some semblance of) my intelligence. Not to mention my virginity, apparently.
A Joey's is opening on Burrard. I HATE that place. For those that were there the night that I fought with the manager of the Joey's on Broadway, you know where I'm coming from. The washroom at the Blenz at Robson and Burrard is disgusting. I saw a guy wearing thongs with his jeans (in the snow) and was sexually harassed en route to St. Pauls to take some pictures of the light display there. Are there no sacred cows?
Met up with Big D and Po for the opera and, I can't speak for them, but I really, really enjoyed it. This is the third or fourth time I've been to a production starring my co-worker and it appears that opera really mellows me out. It's like this zen state of meditation for me. I don't know why, I can't explain it, but I just really, really enjoy it. I think the fact that the person standing next to you at the bus stop might have a voice that would knock your socks off and make you contemplate the existence of a higher power is kind of intriguing to me. These people are so incredibly talented and they make it seem so effortless. And they give up their Saturday nights for and AIDS benefit. Cool. I need to start volunteering again.
Went for drinks and tapas at Lickerish afterwards. I had been there once before with Typewriter and it was good to go back. It's smallish, but my food was good, the wine selection was nice and I enjoyed the mellow, Groove Salad-ish music.
Meandered back towards my bus stop. Had to pee. Asked the girl at Subway if I could pee, given that I wasn't a paying customer and, upon seeing my rosy cheeked and cherubic face, she acquiesced. I tipped her. A buck is a small price to pay to ensure your kidneys don't burst.
There are weird people on the seabus at 11:16. Someone puked on the #230, so my eight minute ride consisted of me breathing strongly into my mittens, which smell like Body Shop lotion. I was grateful that a guy (who looked oddly like the now-deceased John Popper of Blues Traveller) forewarned me not to move too far back into the bus due to the vomit situation.
Now I am home. It's cold and snowy. I had a really big day. I'm really tired and I believe I am now at the point of it being physically impossible for me not to have a good night's sleep. I am NOT going to tomorrow's 8am running clinic. I am sleeping until 11am. Don't question it. It will be done, and I will be the one to do it.
I really hope Matt and Sarah can work shit out. Like, oh my god. I might puke. On the bus.