Gimel, Mothefucker! Pass Me My Ch-ch-ch-chocolate Coins.

Wow, what a fun, great, perfect weekend.

Friday kicked it off with the aforementioned suit snoop, and things went nearly exactly as I predicted (bless that Güth for her patience and forch fashion eye). The day of shopping was such a good time, despite the fact that outdoor malls in Chicago make as much sense as indoor pools in Miami, but whatevs. We shopped and shopped and ate and shopped and I met a real tiny baby wearing the raddest little tracksuit ever. I nearly shitcanned our adventure, however, after a stop at the Men's Wearhouse on Clybourn. The dude there, gruff as he was stuffy, nearly pushed me to spend my wardrobe budget on vodka and attend my remaining holiday parties in Baby Gabe's velour tracksuit. Oh, man, that guy was a dickweed. Luckily, my man Corey at Joseph A. Banks pulled me out of my retailspin with his good taste, sympathetic ear, and top-notch customer service. (Plus, the tailor there, a hunched oldtimer who didn't seem to give two shits about me but was way into suits, has me completely confident that I'll be pleased as punch when I pick up my new threads later this week.)

Saturday was a Chanukah féte with Ames and some of her friends. The food was great, the wine flowed, and everyone was really fun and funny and had a great time. Here's what I learned: (A.) I'm wicked good at dreidel. (B.) I'd eat caramel sufgaiyot and gourmet latkes every day if I could. (C.) Latke leftovers make for a really stellar breakfast. I wound down Sunday with the deslish latke brunch, list fun with Amy, and a little freelance and football to cap the weekend.

Back at work now with an empty inbox, several Amazon wishlists getting crossed off one by one, and the blueprints of a site I'm designing rolling around in my head. Things are good. Really good.