It's been a pretty enjoyable, laid-back weekend. An early night on Friday, a leisurely Saturday afternoon and an extremely fun night out in SW and on H Street — we haven't even gotten to the Sopranos finale yet, but I'm prepared to declare the weekend a success.

It got off to kind of a rough start on Friday, though, as the universe seemed determine to tell me I'm over the hill. Sommer and I went to a party for Ramya, who in addition to being smart and wonderful is a few years younger than us. Our fellow guests were keen to congratulate us on dragging our geriatric selves out to a gathering of young people. Said one: "Man, I'm pretty young and this party makes me feel old. You must feel really old." Said another: "You're leaving? Yeah, I understand. This party is pretty young."

For the record, we ducked out early because we'd both had such AWESOME YOUNG-PERSON-TYPE TIMES the preceding weeknights and, uh, wanted to go home and go to sleep. And I'm fine with that! Still, it didn't help that when Charles and I checked out at the same Trader Joe's cashier he got carded but I didn't.

For the record, I remain relatively young and vital, and am prepared to take unwise risks and have opinions about MTV. As long as I can be in bed by 11 while doing it.