The days of the week since quitting my job are filled with hectic transcribing, legislative/administrative duties, cleaning, organizing and errands. Get the pants hemmed (still haven’t). Buy the work clothes (H&M and Express are making me happy). Hit the Salvation Army (two trips). Apply for the Visa. Pick up the Visa. Get passport pictures. Make housing decisions; my company’s housing liaison has literally given me a choice between space and privacy. I’m an old girl by now, though – the idea of a roommate makes me cringe. I believe I will have to pick that extremely tiny apartment in the “Mansion” in Abeno. It certainly can’t be worse than my studio on 10th and A.
But the weekends: parties! It’s been a most excellent season so far, too:
- Sal’s pre-Thanksgiving party in Queens. A gorgeous bird stuffed with oranges and onions, lovely Spanish red wine, folks crowded round watching The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and singing happy birthday to a guy who was given a pair of socks.
- Diego’s 25th Birthday bash. Fancying it up at a club with Diego’s work friends who bought rounds and incurred no complaints from me.
- A joint birthday party for Moire and Greg at Art Bar in Tribeca. Marie came with adorable little Hudson in tow, a hyper guy with a faux hawk shouted at me through a bar window that I look like “the girl from Clerks”, and a $3 trip to Magnolia yielded a cupcake that still had nothing on the ones at Crumbs.
- A dinner party in honor of Peaches at my place. Pasta e fagioli, a spinach salad with an interesting new hot pepper and ginger salad dressing, heady ron ponche and a delicious buttercream cake. Heaps of slightly sparkling red dessert wine as well. Oishii!
- The L Magazine Holiday Party. Almost forgot about this one – too used to not being able to go to L Magazine events due to working late and wouldn’t have even considered it if Greg hadn’t reminded me about it when I asked if he was into heading to Marie’s Crisis that night. With Gia, I scoped out the surprisingly impressive male eye candy, enjoyed my Heineken, and thrilled as Squirrel treated the crowd to some of her fantastic breaking on the dance floor.
- A Friday night extravaganza – dinner at Johnny’s Cafe in Greenpoint with Moire, Cash, Danny, Drusilla and Greg to partake of the famous hungarian potato pie. After two orders of fried pierogies, it came – served on a bed of beef goulash and accompanied by Polish beer. Cash was the man of the evening – finishing off his entire plate and a liter of Spaten as well.
A wedding in the hall next to our table blared techno music, including a hit of my beloved O-Zone’s “Dragostea din tei.” Hours later, the pie settling in my belly, I received a call from Ali. He, Enrique, and the visiting Chucky were whooping it up in the city. I joined them at a hookah bar, a dance club (free shots every hour on the hour – plus the birth of the Double Jack dance move) and then an hour of karaoke.
- Saturday night extravaganza – dinner with Diego and Jenny, a birthday party with Punasammy and then heading to Union Square to meet with Chucky, Enrique, and Ali. Dancing until 3:30 at Swift’s and then a meal at 7A saw us heading for home at 6 am.
I spent this Sunday catatonic – those frickin frackin Hayden Hall boys done wore me out. I’m young enough to be able to handle 3 straight nights of partying until the wee hours, but old enough to be knocked out on the fourth day.
The Stipes are coming to town this weekend. I am going to Florida from the 20-27. My mother has parties planned for that time, as well. After, a “come to my house, drink my leftover liquor and take my junk/farewell” party. Then a going away party. More karaoke to come? More Marie’s Crisis? Any other birthday parties I didn’t foresee?
Thank goodness for quiet Tuesday nights spent watching TV after hours of organizing, throwing out and sneezing on dust.