29 Feels Icky the Morning After
Evidently at 29 your recovery time increases from a crazy long night out. Ugh.
But I had a wonderful birthday night, the end of which is a little fuzzy perhaps. I went from the stupid day job to a ladies of liberty rehearsal for a V-Day performance at Hunter College that I somehow thought was to be today, but is in fact Monday. I'm entirely unclear now as to how I arrived at that conclusion, because V-Day id Monday and I knew that. I'm supposed to be at my parents' on Monday. I don't think they'll let me change the ticket, but I'll try. This discovery was quite comical; there I am at at a rehearsal for the event we all supposedly know the date of, and they someone says something about Monday so I ask "What's Monday?" and then they look at me as if I am an alien and explain. Once in a while my brain, usually my ally, becomes my foe and malfunctions on me. But I'm glad I went to the rehearsal and it was really nice. Now that I'm over being about 5 years older than most of the ladies, I'm really enjoying having this womyn time and kind of enjoying being around "the youth" too. I've always been the baby wherever I go, and suddenly I'm not at all anymore and I have no idea when that change came about.
From there I went to Otto's Shrunken Head, this weird wacky fun little tiki bar on 14th between A and B (chosen because its really fun, not a scene and right off the L and I was coming in from Williamsburg). I love the unpretentiousness of it; those always seem to be the places I gravitate towards...I'm definitely not about any kind of a scene and have little patience for hipsters. At the bar I met up with Mr. Saucy Funnybuns, My Little Vidipookikins, and Ms. Laughing Wild Mountain Treasure, a wonderful friend from college who's recently moved to Jersey whom I'm so glad to have living near me once again. They proceeded to buy me many drinks and I proceeded to get sloppy with my old and dear close friends. I can't think of a better way to spend your birthday than with close friends who love you for your stumbling drunken faux pas. The gaggle slowly dispersed and Mr. Saucy Funnybuns and I made our way down the street to Nowhere. It's a bar, not a turn of phrase. We had one more drink and he went home and I went wandering and weaving in search of the club where my very oldest friend Mr. Spacey Guitar, whom I've known since I was 1, was playing a gig and promised to sing me a birthday song.
Mr. Spacey Guitar's band Turbine, is kind of musically uncategorizable. I guess it would be considered a jam band, but I'm not always the hugest jam band fan and I love going to hear them play. They kind of seem to be more than that, you know?
It took me a very long time to find the unmarked club...and that was with the e-mail with the location in hand. I know I called Orphannie and got overly mushy gushy to her; luckily she's quite used to my drunken dialing after many years of friendship. I love when you know you've drunken dialed in a good way and not an embarassing or dangerous way.
I finally found the club and my friend and a little weed as well, so by the time they started playing I was pretty freakin trashed in that "Fuck it it's my birthday!" kind of way. I danced with my beer and enjoyed a beautiful Happy Birthday song dedicated to me and even including a little part where they actually sang Happy Birthday to me. How cool is that? To have a band sing Happy Birthday publically to you! It made my eyes tear up in a good way.
Mr. Spacey Guitar is kind of the closest thing I have to a sibling, as we've totally grown up together and his family is the very reason mine moved down South soon after returning to America. His parents are my parents' oldest friends; they all met in Tunisia when both of our Dad's were in the Peace Corps and met both of their Francophone wives (his mom's Algerian, mine is Fench). We speak a mixture of Fench and English to eachother at all times in the way that only those raised with both languages tend to do. And since my brother died, Mr. Spacey Guitar, who's used to be notoriously updependable but is totally not anymore, has stepped up to the plate and made every effort to be like a brother. He gets worried when we don't talk for a while, and calls to check up on me. It's always really comforting to see him and provides that familiarity of family because he pretty much is. And he sang me a birthday song publically. It was awesome.
I don't quite remember getting home; I know I split a cab with one of their friends. I almost never take cabs because they're so freakin expensive, but since other people bought my drinks all night and frankly I was really not in any shape to take the subway (I'm not sure I could have found the subway at that point) I splurged. According to the evidence found this morning, I then proceeded to eat everything in the apartment when I got home; luckily the cat is still here. According to my phone I also drunken dialed Mr. Mama's Tatoo of All Trades at 3am, but I don't remember it. That would be an example of not-so-good drunken dialing. Oops. Luckily he's a bartender and was at work, so I know I didn't wake him up. I hope I didn't tell him I was eating the cat or something.
And that, folks, was my messy 29th birthday evening with some of the most wonderful people on earth.
The next morning is not quite so fun.
But I am surrounded by gorgeous flowers- tulips from Captain Resistance and a coloful bouquet from my supervisor at work who felt so bad that she didn't know it was my birthday until I mentioned it. And while that doesn't help my grumbling body, it at least makes the sterile stupid day job environment much more pleasant.
One more emphatic "Ugh!" and moan for the road.
But I had a wonderful birthday night, the end of which is a little fuzzy perhaps. I went from the stupid day job to a ladies of liberty rehearsal for a V-Day performance at Hunter College that I somehow thought was to be today, but is in fact Monday. I'm entirely unclear now as to how I arrived at that conclusion, because V-Day id Monday and I knew that. I'm supposed to be at my parents' on Monday. I don't think they'll let me change the ticket, but I'll try. This discovery was quite comical; there I am at at a rehearsal for the event we all supposedly know the date of, and they someone says something about Monday so I ask "What's Monday?" and then they look at me as if I am an alien and explain. Once in a while my brain, usually my ally, becomes my foe and malfunctions on me. But I'm glad I went to the rehearsal and it was really nice. Now that I'm over being about 5 years older than most of the ladies, I'm really enjoying having this womyn time and kind of enjoying being around "the youth" too. I've always been the baby wherever I go, and suddenly I'm not at all anymore and I have no idea when that change came about.
From there I went to Otto's Shrunken Head, this weird wacky fun little tiki bar on 14th between A and B (chosen because its really fun, not a scene and right off the L and I was coming in from Williamsburg). I love the unpretentiousness of it; those always seem to be the places I gravitate towards...I'm definitely not about any kind of a scene and have little patience for hipsters. At the bar I met up with Mr. Saucy Funnybuns, My Little Vidipookikins, and Ms. Laughing Wild Mountain Treasure, a wonderful friend from college who's recently moved to Jersey whom I'm so glad to have living near me once again. They proceeded to buy me many drinks and I proceeded to get sloppy with my old and dear close friends. I can't think of a better way to spend your birthday than with close friends who love you for your stumbling drunken faux pas. The gaggle slowly dispersed and Mr. Saucy Funnybuns and I made our way down the street to Nowhere. It's a bar, not a turn of phrase. We had one more drink and he went home and I went wandering and weaving in search of the club where my very oldest friend Mr. Spacey Guitar, whom I've known since I was 1, was playing a gig and promised to sing me a birthday song.
Mr. Spacey Guitar's band Turbine, is kind of musically uncategorizable. I guess it would be considered a jam band, but I'm not always the hugest jam band fan and I love going to hear them play. They kind of seem to be more than that, you know?
It took me a very long time to find the unmarked club...and that was with the e-mail with the location in hand. I know I called Orphannie and got overly mushy gushy to her; luckily she's quite used to my drunken dialing after many years of friendship. I love when you know you've drunken dialed in a good way and not an embarassing or dangerous way.
I finally found the club and my friend and a little weed as well, so by the time they started playing I was pretty freakin trashed in that "Fuck it it's my birthday!" kind of way. I danced with my beer and enjoyed a beautiful Happy Birthday song dedicated to me and even including a little part where they actually sang Happy Birthday to me. How cool is that? To have a band sing Happy Birthday publically to you! It made my eyes tear up in a good way.
Mr. Spacey Guitar is kind of the closest thing I have to a sibling, as we've totally grown up together and his family is the very reason mine moved down South soon after returning to America. His parents are my parents' oldest friends; they all met in Tunisia when both of our Dad's were in the Peace Corps and met both of their Francophone wives (his mom's Algerian, mine is Fench). We speak a mixture of Fench and English to eachother at all times in the way that only those raised with both languages tend to do. And since my brother died, Mr. Spacey Guitar, who's used to be notoriously updependable but is totally not anymore, has stepped up to the plate and made every effort to be like a brother. He gets worried when we don't talk for a while, and calls to check up on me. It's always really comforting to see him and provides that familiarity of family because he pretty much is. And he sang me a birthday song publically. It was awesome.
I don't quite remember getting home; I know I split a cab with one of their friends. I almost never take cabs because they're so freakin expensive, but since other people bought my drinks all night and frankly I was really not in any shape to take the subway (I'm not sure I could have found the subway at that point) I splurged. According to the evidence found this morning, I then proceeded to eat everything in the apartment when I got home; luckily the cat is still here. According to my phone I also drunken dialed Mr. Mama's Tatoo of All Trades at 3am, but I don't remember it. That would be an example of not-so-good drunken dialing. Oops. Luckily he's a bartender and was at work, so I know I didn't wake him up. I hope I didn't tell him I was eating the cat or something.
And that, folks, was my messy 29th birthday evening with some of the most wonderful people on earth.
The next morning is not quite so fun.
But I am surrounded by gorgeous flowers- tulips from Captain Resistance and a coloful bouquet from my supervisor at work who felt so bad that she didn't know it was my birthday until I mentioned it. And while that doesn't help my grumbling body, it at least makes the sterile stupid day job environment much more pleasant.
One more emphatic "Ugh!" and moan for the road.
posted by Le Synge Bleu at 1:21 PM
5 Comments:
I'm so sorry Synge I didn't make it. I went to see a play with a friend of mine and it didn't end until after 11pm. The play kind of wrecked me so I was in no shape to drink at Tiki bar. It was called Counsellor at Law and is by Elmer Rice. I fucking love Elmer Rice! He just wrote these big cast sprawling slice of life dramas in the 1930's. Ironically, he is often categorized as a writer of Jewish plays though he was not religious at all. Anyway, it's not that the play is particularly emotional, it's just, at the end, the entire weight of the issues and moral problems it's dealing with just falls and it hits you, me at least, really hard. Somehow, having a pina colada after that just didn't seem do-able. But hope your bday was a blast. It sounds like it.
MAH
Do you have names for all your friends? The description of the guitarist makes me think of that first chord in "Walking on the Moon." Echoplex tape delay heaven. Very...spacey, as you say. I could listen to that one chord ring forever.
Anyway, he sounds like a great friend. All the people you mention sound that way. You're lucky that way...think that counts as a little birthday present?
MAH- It's totally fine, I know the plan is for us to celebrate on our own when you take me to the theatre and I can't wait! It's such an awesome present and will be an awesome night. I don't know why I'm using the word awesome so much today. Hmm. Weird. Anyway, considering I didn't call anyone about my birthday until 3pm yesterday, its a wonder anyone could show.
Orph, I make up names as I write them. Its much more fun than using initials. And I am so lucky to have the amazing friends in my life that I do; it is a true gift. I'm still not sure if its some huge cosmic mistake or not, but I am infintely thankful nonetheless. I would be a mess in the gutter somewhere without that luck and all of the people I speak of.
Synge,
Désolée que je ne savais pas que c'était ton anniversaire. Alors chez moi je ne m'amusais pas trop. Je jouais de la guitare terriblement à une soirée privée vendredi. Samedi j'avait pratiqué la danse du ventre pendant la journée et la danse du cour la nuit. Dimanche on me trouve chez moi, fatiguée, nue, mais seule. Je n'ai pas fait l'amour depuis longtemps. J'ai vu Christophe mercredi mais il n'a pas voulu passé la nuit chez moi. Tant pis pour nous deux. J'aurais pu venue 10 fois s'il m'a même ebracée. En tout cas je continue à parler avec Orphé qui aura son quarantaine mercredi. Faut que tu lui souhaites de bon anniversaire aussi. Dans un mois j'aurai mon trente-neuf. Alors GROS GROS bisoux pour toi. Tu me manques terriblement.
P
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