graceland's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Win, place or draw Last week was called Grace Goes Out Every Night with no money and gets crazy on other people's dime. The topper was dinner Thursday night at Sushi Samba. I could barely walk down the stairs from the rooftop after the massive drinking that occured with co-workers. I put myself into a cab after dinner or rather, I ran into the middle of Bleeker and jumped in front of a cab to escape the group who was ready to burn thru West Village bars. I had to go home and pack. Friday I left early and went to Philly. It was Grace weekend at my brother-cousin-close friends' new place. We drank a lot of wine. There was some champagne mixed in there. We vetoed dinner because we were all so drunk. I had only eaten a cup of chicken noodle soup that day because I was late to work as a result of the drunkeness the evening before. Chicken Noodle soup and a lot of brie, since the Philthy crew served a nice cheese platter. I think you know how that went. My one friend lost her balance just standing up and flattened a couple of small plastic outdoor tables we had been using outside. She was like a miniature version of the Kool Aid man falling into the pool. It was fantastic. The next day she looked outside and laughed and said, "What happened here?" Everyone said, "YOU. You are what happened here." Prior to the broken tables, I had already broken 1 wine glass outside with the sweep of a hand when telling a story and then broken another one in the kitchen. Now sure how I broke that one, I think I fell back against the counter however, it could have been another stealth arm motion. One can't be sure. Shortly after the breaking of the second glass, I decided to take one of the bikes from the back yard and ride it through the house, in the back door, through the kitchen, down a landing, through the TV room, through the foyer and out the front door. I would have made it too, except that when I stood up on the bike to manuever it down the step from the kitchen to the TV room, one of the guys decided to jump on the seat and have me ride him which naturally slowed me down and led to my apprehension before I could get the front down open and ride down those steps onto the street. So close. After that, one of the roommates challenged me to shotgun a beer and I think the words "I dare you" were uttered, so of course, I shotgunned a beer. And that's just the legal version of what was going on. So it's completely acceptable that it was around 11PM when I heard people talking about going to a bar that I went upstairs and decided to call it a night. That was slightly unsuccessful. I tried to drink a few glasses of water prior to laying down and that didn't work out with the wine and the shotgunned beer. I had to be sick. And I made it to the bathroom. I did. I just couldn't focus on the toilet, and well, I christened the bathroom. The floor, the toilet, the walls, the shower, the new white shower curtain. Red wine. Everywhere. I must have felt better after that, because I cleaned the bathroom on my hands and knees with tissues. I even had the wherewithall to take down the shower curtain and soak it in cold water in the tub. As I said on Saturday morning when we all were up rehashing the night, "Well, you people INVITED me. That's all I'm saying." Saturday night we walked two blocks to my oldest friend and her BF's place for a rooftop party. I was late, by about 3 hours, primarily because I didn't think I could possibly drink again. I'm not tough like the Philly kids anymore. I don't go out more than once or twice a week now. Everyone was rocked. They went to the Phillies game that day. A friend's wife screamed down at the neighbors' and invited them up. I start drinking and smoking. At this point, with strangers in the mix, you have to call a spade a spade. So everyone's chatting, it's a small group, and someone calls me over to them. "Grace, come over her you have to meet this guy," I walk over to them, hand extended and hear, "he's from Montreal, with the EXPO's!" I look at him and drop my hand, turn to my friend and say, "I can't speak to him, he's from Canada." And I walked into the house. The alleged Canadian didn't appear to appreciate that and rightfully so, it turned out that he's not Canadian at all, he's from Buffalo. That was explained when I was pulled over again later in the night and I had to somewhat backtrack on my rudeness. I heard some rumblings from my people about the alleged history behind my Fuck Canada policy, to which I shouted out that it's a temporary and reasonably founded moratorium and people should mind their own goddamn business about my moratoriums. If I want to boycott Canada and everyone from it, I will. And I won't explain my reasons. No need to air dirty laundry. Just Blame Canada. I did feel badly later and explained it's a temporary ban, I do like Canadians. I've aspired to be Canadian and I would like to live there some day - after medical science finds a way to erase my Canadian interaction from the years 2001, 2002 and 2003 from my mind. We called it an early night on Saturday. Sunday, I tried my brother's scooter and I'm not exactly sure what happened but that thing actually flew off the ground and I ran into the fence and then the scooter landed on a heap of bikes. I'm definitely going to need some serious lessons before buying my Vespa. And a lot of protective gear. I made it back into NYC around 1am Monday morning, all the while thinking to myself, why am I going back? What am I going back to? A job and an apt. I've spent the last two days searching for jobs in Philly. I don't think I can wait. I need to be with my people. Either that or a stable boyfriend because I am just wild. I don't know if it's the emergence of spring or what, but I am feeling fierce and running free and that's not good. My hair is pretty long now. That helps. When I started to run away from someone last week he grabbed a fistful of my hair and gently reined me back in. Like a horse. Lotta spirit, little fiesty but with the right trainer, I could be a winner. 7:09 p.m. - 2004-04-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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