6 months till my birthday.
"You'll never eat dogfood again."
A very nice weekend, if I do say so myself. On Friday we went to a party celebrating St. Stephen & his girlfriend Sheila's immanent departure for Australia. Many, many UC people were in attendance, including such Greek Drama cast members Seth, Jenni, Paul, Lady Godiva, The Lawyer, Beowulf, Wallace, Brit Boy as well as the more commonly appearing Fast Eddie, St. Jack, St. Pete, Dirk & Tym:J. For the first time since we returned from the land of fish & plenty, I was ready to talk about my life to people who have not seen me in a long time. This, I have no need to tell you, is a yuuuuge step for me.
I danced provocatively with Lady Godiva for a very brief time, traded confidences with Jenni & Paul, sang "Maginot Line" to Dirk, spoke to The Other Pete about education, and discovered from an exchange with Fast Eddie that I am just as jealous as my mother (don't ask). I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable I felt in the room: it's been years and years since I've seen some of these people, but we fell into old patterns of outrageous humour & ridiculous insults. Jenni, Paul & L.Godiva in particular were very fun to talk to. It felt so good to be there and talking to them that I wondered where the happy feeling had gone over the last 4 months. We ended up staying until 3:30, and drove Fast Eddie home to Scarborough as he regaled us with tales of the seamier side of our wedding night. Apparently it was a whole lot ickier than we had imagined.
"I ended up sleeping with Guy. That's how you know it was a rough night." - FE
the least sleazy picture. there are others that show me more dirk than I could have ever wanted to see.
Okay. I have to get this off my chest (which Eddie was ogling, BTW.) These boys that I knew in res, i.e. Wallace, Seth, the Lawyer, the Saints...we went years before we even wished each other happy birthday. Now every time they see me, they not only hug me, but kiss me on the cheek. I mean, I'm not complaining or anything...I just find it baffling. If this is what they mean by growing up, I anticipate my confusion growing.
Since it appears to be picture night in Canada...
me, ophelia & godiva on new year's eve 98 - the one where I woke up dreadfully hung over in the lawyer's bed.
ophelia, jenni & myself on the condo roof during ophelia's très swanky birthday party.
On Saturday we woke up really really late (of course) and tried our best to get things done despite a mescal hangover (boy) and overwhelming sleepiness (me). We ended up going grocery shopping in time to catch Seán Cullen checking out the produce. Kind of cool. The Boy says that our celebrity stalking moment makes him believe that the show is taped just down the road from our house: homicidal dominatrix, studio audience & in-living-room band all just minutes from our considerably less funny kitchen.
In the evening we ate a tonne of food at Le Commensal (my favourite vegetarian restaurant even before I went on the circuit) and caught up with Stacy at a reading of a cheesy horror movie called "They Suck." The idea was that we would do this before heading to the Garden for an hour of cardio-type dancing (hey, industrial is just techno in a bad mood), but while we were sucking back juice at B.B.Q.'s with Jesse, she suddenly became euphemistically tired, and we were left to go to the Garden on our lonesome. After a spectacular argument that brought out the worst drama queen tendencies in me, we finally made it to the dancefloor (but not before a long spell of crying and an offer from Ale* to drive me home). It was a brutal, brutal night.
I did, however, get my hour in and I can hit the week ahead knowing that I'm ready to start doing the kind of exercise that motivates me. My brother lent me a pair of thrift-store red sweat pants with the word "QUEENS" across the ass, and if that doesn't get me out this week then nothing will.
