think about direction (wonder why you haven’t before)

I'm famous! (Again.) I know, I know, it's getting old, isn't it? This time I'm famous because I talked to Michael Stipe on the phone! For almost a whole minute! I was very friendly (and he was in a tin can) and I transfered him to someone else.

The end.

by kate

So this weekend, I partied like a rockstar in her early twenties and by Sunday I had developed a fairly severe liver-ache (which manifest themselves by an intense desire to lay down and not go to work the next day).

Friday night Thea invited me to a going away party for a friend of hers who is moving to Hong Kong. She promised me "successful men in suits -- just your type!" which was just enough to twist my arm and get me to go to the UWS (yikes!) for this party.

She didn't, however, mention that they would be 1) of the International Men of Mystery variety, 2) short, or 3) Not In Their Suits Anymore. (Not her fault, she didn't know.)

The private part of the party was winding down by the time we got there -- we got a little hung up at Thea's work because there were waaaaaaay too many people who wanted to eat Mexican food that night. Which turned out ok, because I put my personal Talk-To-Strangers Challenge into action and chatted up the guy sitting next to me. His name was Efraim ("Eff") and he's a mechanical engineer who lives with his girlfriend of seven years in a deadzone in midtown east and they're probably going to move back to Texas -- or somewhere else -- in the not so distant future. He was nice, the margarita in front of me was as big as my head, and Thea was doing her best to get going as soon as possible.

Of course, the skies opened up the second we left, so we hopped in a cab and paddled uptown.
At the party, there was some very intense conversation, but I was not part of it. I hung back, drank more tequila and ate cheese cubes. I also discovered what I thought was going to be some sort of savory patty (probably with curry, I dreaded) which turned out to be little smores. So I ate a million of them.

Here are the best parts of the wind-down of the evening:
1) Someone played one of the video games at the bar long enough to get the guest of honor a pair of light up glasses, so we all tried them on. This was Thea's turn:

2) A thrower of the party was VERY VERY VERY drunk and dropped something from his pocket. Which, when I picked it up and put it back in there for him, turned out to be a few thousand dollars. In cash.

3) I chatted with a guy who, over the course of the conversation, I'm pretty sure I told I was single and dating. At the end of the night, however, when he asked me for my number, I told him I was seeing someone. (I was. I was seeing Margarita. She's hot!)

4) We had had too much to drink to get on the subway right away (and Thea's metrocard died two hours earlier) so we walked from 82nd to 42nd in hopes of clearing our minds (and systems) a bit before going home. I have no idea now what we talked about. It was very important, though, I'm sure.

It was 3:30 by the time I got home. And I had been desperate all night (since about 1:45) for a piece of toast. (I don't know why, so don't ask.) At one point, I even asked thea if she had any toast in her bag. (she didn't.) When I got home, I couldn't be bothered to actually plug in the toaster, so I threw some bread in the microwave and ate it in bed as I fell asleep.

I am the poster child for glamor and the single life.
to be continued...

p.s. the link on Michael Stipe is for my mother. Hi mom!