this imploding heart

Maybe you're already there

On Saturday, we 3 Derby Girls woke up for a Very Derby Christmas. We piled into Souxie's car and drove out to Issaquah, where we jumped around like puppies for 5 minutes before picking a tree close to the road, taking a dozen pictures of ourselves with said tree, and sawing the mothafucka down. This is my first real Christmas tree in 6 years.

Later in the evening, Souxie and the Delaware boys and I went to a hardcore punk show in a basement in Georgetown. I stood around in a tool shed, drinking PBR, looking like an ice cream cone, surrounded by hardcore kids all dressed in black. Some random guy sitting on a piano paid the dollar for me to get into the show, because I'd spent all my money on PBR in the toolshed. I gave him a hug and called him a good buddy. The fact that I was giving out anonymous hugs at 7:30pm should give you a decent indication of how this story is going to turn out.
Sex Video, the band-'s set was totally delightful but only 4 minutes long. Despite my repeated requests that they "Do it again! One more time! Play what you just played again if you don't have any more songs! COME ON!", they rolled up their mic cables and left the stage, so we left.
At the Summit Pub, I may or may not have drank a pitcher by myself.
Peter called just as I was leaving the bar and -recognizing the situation- called his building manager to have her unlock his apartment for me. I pulled that great number where I half run, half fall all the way back to his place. I splayed out on Cake's laundry-covered bed like a starfish, one shoe on, one shoe off.

Cake had a hard night at work, so when he finally got home, he must have helped me get undressed and into bed proper. All I remember is that around 4am he spent some time standing over me complaining about some sorry asshole who pissed him off, and closed off the statement with "I can't wait until you're awake so I can really complain about this!"
I think that stupid jerk also made plush toys talk to me in my sleep, because I had awful drunken dreams all night, and when I told him about it in the morning, he asked if anyone in the dream sounded like a Talking Uncle Sam doll, such as that one there.

Please note: Talking plush toys amplify hangovers.

Posted by Sonya at December 6, 2004 08:50 AM