One week until I'm on the road to California! Thank goodness for vacations to look forward to!
I am reliving my college partying days through my friends now. It's like having a second childhood. I have come home with Shane as the sun rose three times now. Each time, spent just enough time randomly chatting to wind down from the drive before crashing. I'm hanging out with Jim, Shane and Ben on a university campus way late at night in such a way that it reminds of the weekend City warrior bit I would do with James and Paul in college on weekends. I'm generally doing or trying out things that I haven't done in ages. It feels good for the soul.
Friday night, I went out dancing at the Mercury with Jo'nese, David and Ben. I had a wonderful time. I drank way too much - enough to contend with a "nausea" hangover the next day. Danced enough to be seriously sore the next two days. Drove when I should not have (but, got home in one piece - no blood, no foul and no ticket). Also, I actually made a pass at a guy who is interested back and is not gay. Of course, I do have to see if that was the alcohol talking when we made the tentative get together but, even if it was, I'd still call that a success.
Though, I tell you, the morning after the night of fun and/or debauchery is getting harder and harder to take as the symptoms become more pronounced and the recovery phase takes longer than I remember it did. Fortunately, I don't need a night of debauchery like I did on Friday very often. So, while the fun quotient is high, I can keep the debauchery at a manageable level. It's just that I need a night like that every once in a while to remind me of what it is like to tie one on and suffer the next day.
Lesson learned: I'm not ten feet tall and bulletproof. Nor am I young and immortal. Hmm, that means the recovery phase is gonna get more intense as I get older. That means I must get in all my sowing of wild oats now! Any volunteers to help me?
There I was, Saturday morning with a nausea hangover, blood shot eyes and guests arriving within two hours. I had no refreshments nor kitty litter and one of those was not going to wait for anyone no matter how hung over I was. So, I hop in the car and notice that I'm low on gas. As I have drive to Capital Hill that evening, I thought "Huh. I should get gas."
Off to the gas station where I pause, transfer all my money, ID and credit card from my silver cigarette case back into my purse, grab my credit card, hop out of the car and promptly lock myself out... and didn't even notice it until I tried to get back in again. "Oh, tell me I did not just do that!" I moaned. The very nice guy next to me saw my dismay and immediately offered me his cell phone. "Do you need to call someone?"
In my mind, the sarcastic bitch who had been deep asleep in a post-drunk unconsciousness immediately woke up and laughed, "Sure, you need to call someone. In fact, you could call Hans right now to rescue you... IF YOU HAD EVER GOTTEN OFF YOUR ASS, HAD THOSE EXTRA KEYS MADE AND GIVEN A SET TO HIM! Feel stupid now, dontcha, wench!" The outside voice just smiled and said, "No thanks. I'll call a locksmith."
I walked up to the gas station attendant, who was very nice and was prepared for it. In fact, he had a jimmy but he wasn't sure it would work on my car and I wasn't willing to make the attempt. 15 minutes later, a very cute guy arrived, informed me that I was not his first client this morning, hoped that I had had a fabulous night last night and had my car open in less than a minute. $45, ma'am. Thank you very much! Cascada Locksmith. Good guy. Look him up if you need that sort of help.
At this point, I decided that I was going to learn my lesson RIGHT NOW and go get those extra keys made. 10 minutes and $14 later, I had two sets of house and car keys on personalized key rings. One set for my office. One set for Hans, who, regrettably, wasn't in when I arrived at his place. So, I just asked his visiting father to give him the set of keys and to tell Hans that I was learning my lesson right now and I would explain it all later.
Lesson learned: When you really need to remember to do something like get extra keys made, the universe will remind you in the most persuasive way possible.
My hair... is short. As in Oh-my-God-I-think-I-hate-it-But-I'm-not-s
So, my hair looks neat. Rather like anime hair. He did big, chunky red highlights that make it look like I had red hair originally and decided to lowlight my hair in black. Now, as the black grows out, it won't look nearly so funny. However, it is short. A pixie-ish cut. I had wanted to go back to CA with all this long, luscious hair... instead, I'm very edgy. For those of you who know me, you know I'm not what one could call "edgy."
I'm sure I look fine. Good even. But, this is not what I was expecting and had no time to mentally prepare to lose 4-5 inches of hair. I'm sure I don't look like a boy or masculine in any way but, I'm still freaking out about it. Plus, I'm terribly afraid I'm going to go back to CA and all my friends are going to have to do that fake smile "Oh, Jenn. It looks fine..." Then mouth behind my back "Oh my God! What was she thinking?!" to each other.
Lesson learned: Coming back from dyeing your hair black is every bit as difficult as the hairdresser says it will be.
Tarot Card for the Day: Two of Cups