No, JT and I certainly did not binge on a total of 26 dumplings on Friday night in preparation for our Stonehill reunion out on the town. (Just like we never ingested full bags of hint-of-lime Tostitos in single sittings on several Sundays during our Stonehill daze (pun intended), while procrastinating a week's worth of work by watching episode after episode of Law & Order: SVU.)
No, I also didn't befriend a pink and green decked Father Christmas in Christopher Square during Saturday's SANTACON, nor did I prove my Vixen the Reindeer-ness (hence the leathaaa jacket, thank you Tory Burch sample sale) by striking a pose on the 1 train platform.
No, ML and I did not skip down 34th St., hand in hand, while singing Frosty the Snowman, hopping across the crosswalk like Buddy the Elf. ML also didn't use a Chanel lipstick to paint on her red Rudolph nose.
No, eight (ish) reindeer and one Australian version of St. Nick himself did not visit Rockefeller Center for some touristy fun to see the twinkling tree after an afternoon of SANTACON-ing, nor did they spend upwards of an hour posing for pictures with precious cherubs who wanted up close and personal shots with the jolly old elf himself... and his antler-wearing chaffeurs, of course.
And no, those eight (ish) reindeer did not watch their fair Vixen befriend the three ten-year-old boys who are all up for the lead in Broadway's Billy Elliot, nor did the voluptuous reindeer-ess show those Broadway bounds her box step, dance-off style, outside Radio City Music Hall, only to be--quite literally--out stepped by their aerial cartwheels and triple pirouettes.
Ha. If only I just told the truth... Can your weekend top that?!