CCCC

T h e A d v e n t u r e s o f C h i c a g o J o

first entry profileemailguestbookringsolder entries

The Morning After...

2003-02-22� � 6:55 p.m.
I wrote this early this morning. Diaryland was down for much of today.


Two words: Holy schmoly.

I bet you were expecting Ego Boost again, heh?

This Queen of Loquaciousness almost drank water out of the freaking gallon container. My morning-after-drinking desert mouth was too much to handle. But then I remembered all of the times I got onto Matt about that (yes, you at one time probably drank out of a container Matt put his mouth on -- germs! ick!), and I decided that a glass was the best route to get the water I oh-so-needed.

Someone is doing something in the apartment above mine that is making my head split. Damn cleaning or power tools or squealing midget slaves. I don�t think it�s the booze either.

Before I tell about my night, you get the recap of the day. I had a woman try to get me to join a social club. I knew I wasn�t going to join. She knew I wasn�t going to join. But boy did she try to sell that little group of planned activities to me. I think I have found the perfect job for me, playing social director.

Let�s think about it for a minute: I did it at IBM all of the time to get the foreigners out of their apartments and immersed in Texas-ness for the few weeks that they were here. I love playing the hostess with the most-est when I throw parties and BBQs. I think I�d make a damn good social director.

Or an astronaut. I always thought I�d be a good one of those too.

So this club has a calendar filled with 50+ events each month. I admit that it�s interesting stuff, but it�s not stuff that I�d pay an organization to put together for me. My local citysearch has plenty of things that I can go and do. Granted, I do them alone.

The noise has changed from the noise of caged rabid squirrels to that of an evil dentist with a drill. And by evil dentist, I mean one wearing a clown suit.

So last night I was going to make my way to Fado�s, 0.7 miles away from my house. I figured that people would talk with me if I showed up. My neighbor, who wishes that I�d give him the pseudonym "Holy Grail of Cocks," heretofore the be referred to as Herbie, was too busy playing Internet games to IM me, so I showered, shaved, and shined myself to go out.

Then in a moment of weakness and not wanting to be alone, I called my other neighbor.

The one who always comes over unannounced.

The one who knocks on my door on her way in from work before she even unlocks her own door.

The one who thinks we are best friends, when I have probably hung out with her fewer than 24 total hours.

This neighbor is not nearly as cool as Herbie or as mellow as Holger, my other neighbor, the German architect.

And because I�m seemingly stuck on pseudonyms beginning with the letter "H," let�s call her Helga.

So I called Helga in a moment of weakness, and she�s at this club that citysearch says is cool. I study my el map and head in that direction.

Similar to her party that I attended my first weekend here, there are a bunch of Turkish people there.

All. Speaking. Turkish.

All. Not. Speaking. With. Me.

Luckily I found one of her friends who was friendly enough to talk with. After two margaritas and an Absolut Red Bull, the three of us shared a cab home.

The neighbor had to go to sleep for work the next day, but I decided that 1 a.m. was not go-home time. I went into the club at the bottom of my building. I had to swat the men away, but this cool chick and I danced like we were John Travolta. Or Britney. Or Michael Jackson. Or J-Lo.

Yes, my bootie looks more like J-Lo�s. It was definitely she that we were dancing like.

The waitress brought over shots from some patrons that we waved thanks to, and we kept groovin�. I�m sure we looked like two drunk sluts, but [shrug]. I was having fun. Then at 4 am the noise stopped and I had to walk the ten feet home.

I [heart] my apartment.

I [heart] water from the fridge.

I [heart] that they stopped the g-damn Kathy-Lee-singing noise in the apartment above mine.

I [heart] my bed, and that�s where I�m going back to.�



Miss something?

Moving Day - 2008-02-15
Working from Home is Glorious - 2008-02-13
Speaking in Tongues - 2008-02-07
I Have My Reasons - 2008-01-25
Got an Itch, Fix it, Shine it Up, Sing it Out - 2008-01-23

back one -- forward one

get notified when I update:
email:

hosted by DiaryLand.com