Monday, June 1, 2009

In which I should have had some tasty, tasty water

I love New York.  This weekend was gorgeous, weather-wise.  Not too warm or humid, perfectly blue skies, lovely breeze.  Just like Los Angeles, only I got to have human contact TWO DAYS IN A ROW with people who actually have SOULS.  Nice.

On Saturday I shopped and coffee'd with friends and on Sunday I my friend S offered to take me out.  She is awesome and I adore her, but we hadn't seen each other in months (literally), so I was very excited about our late lunch.  

We started out with drinks and then...we drank some more.  See my tweet in the sidebar?  Um, I don't remember doing that.  Now, I really don't understand what happened.  We only drank champagne.  With a shot of grapefruit vodka in it.  So, four of those isn't really that much, right?  Or is that really like eight drinks?  I don't really know how to gauge it, except to show you this:

I believe this was supposed to be a visual aid to show S that I was tipsy enough to have crossed the line (see the line there?) between funny and obnoxious.  I'm pretty sure writing on your palm (when you are older than, you know, ten) is a pretty good indication of drunkenness.  Or lack of a notepad.  In my case it was both.

After the drinking, and some eating, to er, soak up the drink, I went home, sat on my fire escape pondering the beauty of New York and then fell asleep for three hours.  In my bed, that is, not on the fire escape.  I was then treated to a number of incredibly wild dreams, including one where I was presenting an award at a reformed Jewish temple where they sang Catholic hymns.   Next I dreamed that I had an extremely large office with windows, balconies and wrought iron railings, but couldn't decide where to put the desk.  Then I dreamed that I was holding a toddler who darted away from me, then saw a baby floating nearby who turned into a little glowing mohawked, punk rock kid who was shaking his head at me, telling me no.  Little brat.  Then I woke up myself up screaming.

After that delightful dream, I woke up every hour rather than actually sleeping through the night, which is what made me so miserably tired last night.  

Maybe I'm off the mark here, but I think it might have been the champagne.  And the vodka. 

I think next time I'll just stick with tequila.

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