My life is just a comedy of errors, when you get down to it.
Friday night I cashed in my "stay at home and hide" card after brainstorming various ways to end my life without affecting anyone.
Unfortunately, there was no clean answer to that, so I scrapped the whole plan.
Saturday. I woke up and I thought to myself, "Self, it's a new day. You are the Partygirl. Make it all happen."
So I did. We had some friends over for a BBQ and I got fucked up and then we all headed out to go two-stepping.
Let me just set the record straight here - I don't two-step. But I thought, why not just go and take it all in. And get really fucked up beyond all recognition, meet some people, and make fun of everyone else.
So we headed out. When we pulled up to the two-stepping establishment, my roommate and I found out two key facts that had been withheld: 1) It wasn't at a bar, but rather at a dance studio and 2)It was a gay two-stepping night.
Oh yes, it was.
Partygirl was *not* amused by this news. In fact, I didn't even want to go in but they made me at least go up and meet our friends.
I tried to hang onto the wall of the tiny commercial elevator, but I was laughing so hard at the entire situation that my resolve weakened and I really had no option but to be physically pulled out by two gay pseudo-cowboys and face a room of Rainbow Rhinestone Cowboys and Cowgirls.
The boys I was with realized their mistake when they saw I just could not pull it together and stop laughing. My roommate, in a precarious laughing condition herself, had to find shelter on the opposite side fo the lobby from me.
And then our friend came out, in full gear, oblivious as to what was going on. So I am in tears, trying to escape what appears to be a flashback to junior high - small room, streamers, refreshment table, and boys on one of the room, girls on the other - and the boys have to take our other friend aside and break it down for him.
He came back with clarity in his eyes and seriously looks right at me and says, "Well, how would I EVER know a straight two-stepping place, I mean *c'monnnnnnnnn* girls...." and I am in tears again. My roommate is all eyes now, watching the seen in the studio as guy on guy whirls each other in a circle and the boys are telling her to stop staring - this isn't the zoo.
After my roommate broke it down that she and I are A crowd and this mixer is the B and C, we pretty much pulled a speedracer and zoomed the fuck out of dodge, in hysterics the entire way. One gay boy intact as he was just as horrified at the scenario.
We hit a lower eastside lounge and met some other people. I couldn't pull it out, as I am having stomach issues again from the stress and have been sick all weekend.
The job. The job is going to kill me folks. FYI. Not the cigarettes, it's the job. Gotta do something about it because this ain't no way to live.
So I go to brunch at a friends place in Harlem this morning. High and trying to numb myself at this point. Hit the booze. Champagne, fuck the orange juice. Then MyFriendJen and I decide to mix it up and throw a little Frangelica into our chocolate milk. I got a little loopy.
We went to the grocery store to pick up some more eggs, MyFriendJen and I pumped the toy machines full of quarters. You would have thought we were in Vegas we were so crazed. I got gak. You know, that slimy shit? Yeah. I got that.
Then I hit the half open bodega across the street. It's all sorts of shady central in there. But I'm down and I'm minded my own biz. Head down, fiver out, I'm just doing my business for some smokes. Big black guy in front of me. All Shuge Knight style, badass. But I'm minding my bid-ness. Dude buys some smokes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the softpak slide across the counter. They're open. And they ain't full of smokes, if you hit my drift.
I stare at the floor. I don't see anything. It's my turn. The guys eyes me. "Hi baby doll," he says. "Pretty girl doesn't have to work on Sunday. I have to work. Watchoo want?" I ask and I get. Just my P-funks, word? Crackerjack is still mouthing off at me as I back out of the place.
Backed my shit out of there, because there ain't no way in hell I'm showing any Daddy in that place my back. Eyes straight up at all times. So they know. That I'm on the up and up.
This scene in the bodega, my job, my life suddenly is back where I was before I got out. Before I found the Dead. Before I evolved. I seem to have found myself back where all the trouble started.
How does that happen? I guess, we can never fully get away, right. The elements are always there, confronting us. Pushing and shoving. reminding us of who we were. The point of difference is that the second time around, we know more. And we can walk away.
I walked away.
But I was a little giddy. Long story short, I was fucking around with the red gak, you know sticking it on my face and screaming, "I'm cut! I'm cut! is it bad?"
Next thing I know, that shit is all glued to my hair at my forehead. And I have an actor and rock photographer trying to salvage my a hunk of blonde tresses. I am freaking. "WHYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy??? Why does this always happen to me????"
15 minutes later, gak is out. I am standing near the stove and go to grab the pole running up next to the stove - burn my hand. That would be the hot water pole. My roommates saying, "Hot potato looks like cold potato!" and everyone else is like, "for crying out loud, sit her down!" and really I just don't understand what the hell is wrong with me.
I am fucking nightmare. Is it possible for me to be normal? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
But I think we knew this.
So that's how my weekend went down.
PS - I am thinking of running away.
previous next