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 Otako. 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 Orange Box Magazine Holiday Party. Almost forgot about this one – too used to not being able to go to Orange Box 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, Doug, 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.