Friday night seemed to arrive in the blink of an eye. Between classes, reading SparkNotes of Moby Dick (What? Read the actual book?), and a couple job interviews, there wasn't much time to spare. I figured things would settle down a bit once I found a job and had an established routine. Right now things were taking twice as long to accomplish because we were fresh off the boat and had to learn where things were in town, as well as getting used to driving on the other side of the road.

I felt like I had wasted some of my time at interviews that didn't seem to pan out. Granted, I hadn't had an official job as a personal caretaker before, but I had racked up tons of volunteer hours at the hospital back home, as well as babysitting time, and occasionally helping to care for my grandpa who'd had a stroke because he was too stubborn to take his blood pressure pills. Helping to care for him was what led me to finally commit to the medical field, as far as my area of study in college. I was still somewhat indecisive on the specifics as sometimes I entertained the idea of going into brain surgery or even physical therapy, but I knew without a doubt that my mission was medicine.

"You better start getting your butt in gear for the party," Kate said, tossing discarded outfits here and there while I lackadaisically reclined on her bed eating a Subway foot-long. "Why are you eating that? You are going to be all bloated at the party."

"I won't be bloated unless I drink beer, which I don't plan on doing. And I want the bread to soak up any liquor I may or may not partake of," I replied, crunching a jalapeno-flavored chip.

I wasn't too sure about this party anyway. The thought of looking into Harry's green eyes again was the only thing that interested me, and that probably wouldn't be a good idea considering the girlfriend factor. I needed to find a new guy to direct my masturbatory thoughts toward.

"You are going to need to gargle with acid to clear your breath of those chips and the onions on your sandwich. I can smell you from here," Kate advised.

Gathering my empty dinner wrappers, I passed her on the way out of her room, "You look mah-velous," I told her in a deliberate breathy exhale much too close for her liking.

She squinched up her face in disgust and smacked my ass before I was out of reach. "Go get ready," she directed, "I still have to approve your outfit."

I grimaced, remembering how one time Kate submitted my information to the tv show "What Not to Wear," which I still hadn't forgiven her for. She tried to boss me sometimes. Usually it was in my best interest, but...ugh. Was what I wore that important? Once I started working, I'd be wearing scrubs all the time anyway.

"Seriously? I didn't think the royal family was going to be in attendance," I returned over my shoulder as I went into the bathroom. Once satisfied with my oral hygeine, I went to my bedroom to begin the dreaded wardrobe decision.

I turned on my "Greatest Disco Hits of the 70's" and my lava lamp to get me in the party mood while I rummaged through my closet. I chuckled to myself at Kate's wails of discontent that wafted into my room over my music choice.

My wardrobe was somewhat of a disaster fashion-wise, but it was all stuff I loved and felt comfortable in. Kate had been trying on mini-skirts and dresses, but I didn't want to freeze my butt off, especially if I ended up in a drunken heap somewhere.

It only took three songs for me to choose my outfit. My old Levi's with a rip in the knee, an 80's Bruce Springsteen t-shirt I'd found at a flea market, and my cowboy boots that had United States flag emblazoned on the shafts. Casual, yes, but with my hair and makeup done just right, I'd be a damn fine patriotic beauty queen. Plus I had the swagger of a chick who had secretly gotten a Brazilian bikini wax earlier in the day, so I practically could feel the cool winds of change blowing between my folds.

I had executed my pre-party masturbation ritual about an hour before Kate came home with our Subways. Always masturbate before a party. I find it not only takes away anticipatory nerves and annoyance, but also aids in RHP. Random Hookup Prevention. I learned if I went to a party feeling horny that sometimes I was less picky about guys I might mess around with. I certainly wasn't a slut, but I did make a couple of selections that I was surprised by in the morning.

After my makeup was done, I was putting the last few curls in my hair and singing "Dancing Queen" to my reflection when Kate entered my room with a flourish. She spun around excitedly to show off her outfit, took one look at me and stopped dead in her tracks.

"What are you wearing?" Aside from the horrified look on her face, she was much calmer than I expected. "This isn't a square-dance, Sherry," she walked to the closet.

"I'm not changing. I'm comfortable, and the boots give me a place to hide my shit so I don't have to carry a purse around at a party," I commented, shoving a small bag of Airheads candy into one of my boots and my cellphone into the other. Kate just stood quiet while I put on my coat and scarf. "Ta-da, I'm all ready. Let's go," I grinned.

She chuckled despite defeat and shook her head in disbelief, but knowing my strong-willed nature, didn't press the issue. "You're a mess," she huffed, turning to go.

"Yea, but I'm a hot mess," I replied. We both laughed and headed out to the party.