Monday, December 06, 2004
drunkenness and a double ROAR!
Hey.
Really have to get up early tomorrow so I will try to make this brief.
Went to the gyme today and did (for the first time EVER!) three sets of twelve dips with NO weight assist. No one else is likely to be as excited by this as I am, but since I know exactly how much more body weight I'm lifting compared to those tiny little cheerleaders, I feel a little bit victorious. But I'm still going to have to prove it when and where it counts.
Went to see a friend's play last night, which was great but very, very sad. It was also pretty funny in parts, which was why I was thinking it would end differently than it did. The main character's best friend ends up committing suicide, then she herself dies alone and an alcoholic, and they end up together in some kind of afterlife, happy for the first time in their lives. That was a little more morose than I think was necessary. Why must we escape the world in order to enjoy it? That seems a bit paradoxical to me.
Afterwards I felt like getting roaringly drunk, and so I went to a party in a club downtown which my parents' friends organize every year. I was wearing this awesome little black and pink lace skirt that I got at a hippy market in the summer (those places are the best-kept-secrets for awesome clothes) and a black shirt and my long white coat and was feeling pretty hot for the first time in a while. This is not to say I don't feel hot on a regular basis, but I definitely don't very often feel hot all dressed up like that. More like hyper self-critical and convinced everyone is staring at me in a bad way. Last night was different though, especially after the very cute bartender (I think I made her cuter in my head because she was so nice) poured me an extra shot when I'd already asked for a double. I gave her a 2 dollar tip and what I figured was a grateful, non-alcoholic look and breezed down to the dance floor, drink in hand. The gin was either really good stuff or she was a damn fine mixer, cause I barely tasted the alcohol before it hit me pretty fucking hard. All that really happens when I get drunk is that I talk a lot more and I get a lot bolder, so I doubt anyone noticed. They probably just thought I was outspoken and/or just a big jerk, which is pretty much what everyone thinks of me anyways, so in the eternal words of Eminem: fuck it.
Despite the fact that the crowd was made up mainly of people my parents' age, I did meet a cool Quebecois woman who spoke French with me all evening (see Dag -- one can find French-speaking opportunities in the most unlikely places!), and a nice lawyer who looked like the blond woman from CSI Miami (only much, much smarter) and I ran into many of my parents' friends (including your parents, Cait!) and their kids, some of whom I knew from past meetings.
One of the kids was Erica, a girl whose mom works for my dad, and I've always thought she was a pretty cool chick. She ordered a martini and a scotch and soda while I was standing at the bar, and I asked her which one was for her and which was for her boyfriend. She said the martini was for her, and added in a whisper: "I'm a real heavy drinker...my parents don't know." I chuckled and she wandered off, only to reappear later, dancing to bad retro crap with the rest of the masses. This was around the time I noticed her dress had a slit all the way up the side. I was impressed. I'm not sure that's something I could pull off.
I ended up dancing for about an hour, which just about never happens with me anymore. Not since high school have I felt like dancing to bad music without the possibility of getting laid is at all worth it. Alcohol changes things, I guess, and I actually enjoyed myself a lot. I even did the YMCA, God love me.
Tonight I went to a movie and dinner with G. -- we saw Sideways, which was an at-times very hilarious, at-times sweet and clever and really quite brilliant film. Go see it! We ate at Hell's Kitchen, which reminds me now quite unpleasantly of P.R., though I tried to think of brunch with Cait as a more important and fun time spent in that place.
One episode of CSI New York later and it is definitely time for bed. I didn't get a lot of studying done today, but I am the master of last-minute memorization. Besides, I've got Professor Dolt in the palm of my hand. And no, that's not the result of any funny business.
In other news, I miss the Boy. Weekends aren't the same without him.
Go T-Birds!
Love,
N
