Dirty Old Prom Queen

In '98 I was the prom queen and in '06 I hang out with queens. I'm a private tutor during the day and a comedian at night in ol' NYC. I just can't seem to get out of high school...can someone call the custodian? Vesuvio, I'm locked in!

Monday, April 03, 2006

Let's Grab a Drink

Last night, I met up with my childhood bestie at a local tapas and wine bar. We shared a lovely bottle of red and some chorizo (not in the wine -- on a separate plate, silly) and caught up about boys, work, clothes, fascism, and other girly things. Afterwards, I felt pleasantly tipsy and full; and I was ready to go home and watch my Sunday night HBO lineup but then...

...my friend Jules called to say that she and her boyf were hanging out at the bar of a local Italian eatery down the street from my apartment. So, I said that I would meet them for a drink. "I can always 'On Demand' my HBO shows another night, but when can you 'On Demand' good conversation?" I thought to myself. And so, I skipped on over to see my dear friends. Well, as you might imagine, one drink turned into another bottle of red. And we laughed and we chortled and we talked about the weather and about summertime plans and current dictators and friendship. Afterwards, we all embraced and, stumbling slightly, I wrapped myself up in my scarf, ready to go home and curl up with a good magazine before I drifted off into sweet slumber. But then...

...I ran into my old roommate on the street and we caught up for a second, but she had just gotten off work at her restaurant job and she asked me if I wanted to grab a quick drink with her, since she had just had a long day and wanted to relax. "What the heck!" I exclaimed and, to the bartendrix's surpise, I walked right back into the Italian restaurant that I had just left. Another round of red and halfway through a flute of champagne, the two of us were on the verge of tears about career struggles, heartbreak, money problems, the loss of civil liberties for thousands of American citizens, and recent weight gain. Drunk as a skunk, I trudged homeward. But then...

...a homeless man offered me an old boot filled with moonshine, and I didn't want to be rude, so I guzzled it, lit my own fart on fire, and hired a Russian pre-teen hooker. JK, you guys. She was Lithuanian.

Anywho, the point is: catching up gets you fucked up. And now I am barely sitting up at my desk, guzzling Vitamin Water, and waiting for the focus in my left eye to return.


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