The loss of dignity (and other not so important items)

Random Fact:

I prefer to eat New England Clam Chowder when it is garnished with fresh tomatoes and parsley

Boy have I missed you guys! I was handed a bunch of grant work to do on Friday so it's had me swamped. I meant to update over the weekend, but an incredible hangover obtained on Friday night kept me strictly limited to lazy as shit activities (which must not include blogging).

When we last met, I still had a shred of my weekly quota of dignity left. Well let's just say thank goodness Monday brought a new store of dignity because I damn sure lost a handful this weekend.

Saturday was supposed to be marvelous. Grandiose, fun filled, excitement packed, etc...it was spent in my bed feeling mostly miserable and I literally could not get my act together to go to any of the four places I was invited. This is not typical folks, that I'm invited to so many glorious activities (although when I am, they usually all fall on the same day - case and point.) I did not make it to the bowling party, blockheads, Negrils, Kristen's birthday party or to Bar None with Feather.

Now I'll tell you something folks, normally the next day I would feel like I missed out. I would regret not going out, but goddammit, based on how I felt on Saturday I did not feel bad for staying home and nursing myself back to health.

I should probably explain why I felt like such trash on Saturday. Well I went out on Friday night (obviously). After leaving work at 8pm, I made my way back to my abode where I thought I would relax the rest of the night. I laid in bed, watching TV until about 10:30pm deciding what I was going to do. Feather invited me to Marquee for her friend's birthday. Seeing as how I'm an adult and I want to meet new people, after a lot of internal struggling, I decided to get my ass into gear and go out.

I took a bottle of firefly with me on the train. Also, I knew there would be tables, so I wore flats and brought wedges to change into before going into the club. I also wore my favorite track jacket over my dress. I drank a lot on the train, and my body was not too pleased.

I changed my shoes and was trying to get a hold of Feather because I didn't know what to say at the door to get in for free and all that jazz. I was waiting on line (more like in a pack) and I was getting frustrated because I finally knew what to say and I didn't know why they weren't letting people in, and I ended up making a bit of a stink and got into an argument with one of the door men, who thought he would be a complete dickhead and tell me regardless of being on the list, I would have to pay now. WHATEVER, I went in and instead of paying the $20, the money taker guy told me I should smile and that I only had to pay $10. That cheered me up a bit.

I found Feather and Kaidy (the birthday girl) in the back and started dancing. Feather immediately handed me a cup and some guy filled it up some of the way with vodka. I found juice and added that, and then topped off my drink with more vodka. I spilled a little on this guy because the stupid bottle had one of those tips that allows you to pour slower and not really spill. I guess that backfired because I tried to pour like a normal person and the vodka shot out.

Anyway, we were dancing, I was drinking. I went with Kaidy to the bathroom and then we went looking for someone. It's at this point, I blacked out. Yup, I did it again. I remember a few flashes here and there. I remember this guy who must've just been starting his dreads because his head looked like a koosh ball, but where each of the dread were the size of a thumb and spiked out in weird directions. He also had these glasses that I remember being too small for his face.

Guess who drove me back to Brooklyn that night, folks. Yup, THAT guy. I told Feather I would call her tomorrow and that this guy was going to give me a ride home. I realize now that this was not particularly safe AT ALL, but I don't make good decisions sometimes. Feather called me the next day to make sure I was still alive...surprisingly, I was.

I remember three things from that night. I remember walking into his building, although I don't know where it was. I remember that we definitely had sex, or at least attempted to. I also remember being a whiny bitch in the morning and he kept telling me to get up, and it was sunny while I was refusing to move.

He gave me a ride home, it was a less than 10 minute drive - that's all I remember about it, oh and that I was holding my leggings. I might've walked to the car barefoot. I remember unlocking my door with my key and thinking to myself "This is a good sign, it means I still have my clutch." I was definitely still drunk though, even at 7am. Woke up that way too.

Here's the kicker. Not only do I not remember where he lives, but I don't know his name. The only thing I remember is his goddamn shitty hair.

I took out my contacts, got undressed and got into bed. At 1pm I started to take stock of what I still had and what I had lost. Here is what I came up with.

Still had:

• Whole clutch, all contents included
• Purse
• Camera (although without case or extra memory card)
• Wedges
• All limbs in tact
• All of the condoms I brought with me (this is a slight cause for worry, but I'm not in full panic mode yet - just getting a TINY BIT paranoid)
• Friends

Lost:

• Favorite Belt (I actually found this!)
• One red flat (it might be under a piece of furniture in my room though)
• Camera case
• Track jacket (nooooooo! - update, I actually found the jacket. It was on the coat rack in the front foyer of my house)
• Dignity. All of it.
• Mind
• Sobriety
• All motivation for the rest of Saturday.

So overall, it was pretty successful.

Sleeping!

Saturday I did NOTHING. I couldn't even motivate myself into the shower after my Saturday morning hooker bath before I knocked out. All I did was make mini sweet peppers stuffed with herbed cream cheese and wrapped in bacon. I burnt the bejesus out of the roof of my mouth with one of these suckers and it peeled yesterday which made me a little nervous about some kind of disease (here's the paranoia again)

Steel Pans did come over drunk at 4am and somehow slept until about 3pm the next day. I was quite nice in that I didn't harass him and wake him up, and I even wished him a happy father's day because I'm so nice.

Sunday, Father's day was cute. Spent a little time with my parents, bought my dad a bike and then drove him to go pick it up. Got sushi and almost killed a half dozen people on my commute home because it seems that people forget how to drive on the weekends and holidays.

Didn't do much on Sunday actually, and I'm ok with that. My eye was really messed up. It felt like there was something lodged in there that I couldn't get out for the life of me, which sucked. Monday I actually forced myself to go to the gym and I managed to spend $100 on clothing I don't need from Express.

I'm not going to Philly this weekend, so I don't know what I'm going to do, but it's going to be something. Thursday night we're going to Honey again so that's something to look forward to - I will probably be sloshed.

Tomorrow is Fellows' graduation and Stumble Inn.

I have lots to look forward to, so my liver/stomach and other body parts better get the fuck on board!