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2001-10-14

Last night, ms J* said one of the truest things to me that anyone has ever said.

"You are going to regret drinking that in the morning", is what she said.

She was so right.

I wish she had said it to me in the 7-11 before I bought it, but then again, I am sure I would have argued with her. I was in that Jim Morrison, doors of perception kind of mood.

Sometimes a girl just has to test her limits.

40 Oz of malt liquor plus 12 Oz yeungling lager plus 8 Oz of black label is definitely beyond my limits.

I didn't puke or anything, and I did not do anything terribly embarassing(I don't think) and I even managed to drink two glasses of water and take some ibuprofen and prepare and eat waffles before going to bed at 3:30am.

This morning was a trial by fire, though. I don't believe I will be testing those particular limits again any time soon.

It was an excellent party , hosted in fine style and pimphat by the artworldtravellingirl. It was very well attended by hipsters in varying states of hip dress. There was lots of cool tunage and cheese trays(you know I love a cheese tray) and alkehawl flowin and some dirty dancing. I believe I was personally dancing in a very dirty fashion with the atticdweller to Michael Jackson----something off "Thriller". My memory of the events can not really be trusted though.

I know I was chasing my faveboy around the party nagging him to go home because he had to work early. I know I insisted that my former guitarist had to make me dinner, even though he claims he can not cook. I know I had conversations about kefir, naming tiny plants with gender neutral names, women in Afghanistan, people's asses, getting down at parties and shows, being in the b-52s, and many other topics which escape me at the moment. I know I started a sparkler revolt and then left the scene of the crime. I know I had a great time watching the people get down. I know at one point I was wrapped pretty tightly around a certain someone and bit him on the ear. I know who it was, but I am not telling. (tee hee--and it ain't who you're thinking either)

I got a ride home from the cool couple who live down the street. They were playing what I thought was the radio. Echo and the Bunnymen, "Seven Seas" came on, and I said "Wow, is this the radio?" and the dude said "No, that part of your life is over."

That is probably the second truest thing anyone has ever said to me.

At least it was last night.

Today, besides being hung over and having strange celebrity dreams, in which Slash was trying to take me for a ride on his Harley, only he could not get it to start, and he was interrupted in his attempts at repair by Robert Downey Jr, who appeared out of nowhere and started to talk to him about the relative merits of breakfast toaster pastries, to which Slash felt obligated to listen because they had been in rehab together once, I spent a long time online reading things at cardhouse and things recommended by cardhouse. I tried to read the entire paper about the new science of cellular automata but it was 8 pages long and I was hung over.

I doubt even Billy Dee Williams could read 8 pages about abstract science after a night like I had.

Of course, he doesn't need to. That's why he is Billy Dee Williams.

After all that time on the computer I finally made it out of the house and to the laundry mat. Where I was practically ALONE, praise the laundry goddess, and got to sit and smoke and listen to my worldbeat mix tape and read Harper's Bazaar in peace. Thank you.

Harper's Bazaar is very interesting this month---I especially love the article on Frida Kahlo and the idea of Gwenyth Paltrow making crank calls.

When I got home I put on my Arabic Groove Cd and put away the laundry and then discovered to my great delight that I had falafil mix and moraccan cous cous in the cupboard. Oh frabjous day!! calloo callay!!!

Now it is time to go to bed. Retire now to your tents and to your dreams.

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