kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- too kill ya It's me! I'm back after much silence on my page and too much loud behavior in my real life. First ... I must spill the beans and admit that tequila IS NOT my friend. Ms. Fruit and tequila should NEVER hang out together. I felt a good days worth of self-loathing and shame and now, finally at 6PM, I am feeling like my old self again (only a little more humble and much more in touch with my limitations and inner-demons). So ... as dear Nick mentioned, Sam and I had our housewarming/birthday party on Saturday night. Throwing a party is very stressful. We ran around all day Saturday in torrential downpours getting stuff together. We went to the Italian deli, we went to Three Guys From Brooklyn produce stand, we went to Shop-Rite. We diced veggies and mixed dips and arranged cheese platters and filled coolers and arranged the bar ... whew. By the time all this was over and I really needed a drink. What I did NOT need was around ten of them. We were both nervous wrecks thinking that no one would show up for our party. Wrong. We had quite a crowd. My bedroom resembled a bad night at Bob's (think dance club size of non-New York closet with lots of sweaty, inebriated people with overactive hormones). It was fun yes, but I forgot to eat (who wants to eat when they spent a good part of the day cubing cheese?!!?). So ... you can only imagine. I was drunk. I was flirtatious. I thought I was a disco queen (if you had seen my outfit you might have thought so too). I flirted, I danced, I tried to maintain my balance. Then ... neither of my work crushes showed up. Grrrr. Okay, I am not surprised that the Industrial designer didn't show. Why I continue to have faith in this guy is beyond me. Could it be his fashion model good looks, or the way he holds on to my face when he kisses me? Hmmmm..... Anyway, I am done with all that now. I called and left an irate, drunken message on his cell phone. (oops) Then, later I took a cab back to the city with D and some others, why you ask? Well, my bed (the one right in the middle of the disco floor) was not really readily available and I needed a bed. In the cab my phone rings - guess who. He had some long drawn out excuse (can't remember) but that really doesn't matter since I am sure it was total bullshit anyway. Why do I bother? I believe our phone conversation began with me saying "What the fuck?!!?" and ended with me saying something pretty much along those same lines. I get to Michael's (wonder if the doormen wonder why I often show up late-night wearing some tarty looking outfit with my high heels tucked under my arm), go upstairs, try to hold some sort of conversation with him and the roomate. Industrial calls again (??!!) Stupid. I try to pass out and Michael decides he wants to have the relationship solidifying conversation right then (not such a brilliant idea). I, ever so tactfully, tell him that all relationships fail and that I don't want to be labeled as someone's "girlfriend" and lose all sense of identity. OOOh.... I have to run mid paragraph got to meet Loose an Nick's downstairs - half pickled from Nick's corporate good-bye party ... more later ... 19:28:57 - 2000-07-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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