07.04.05

A red letter day, last Saturday. Bored and feeling cast adrift, I started calling people to see if anything was going on. Everyone's so busy, and a holiday weekend, that I got bupkus on call-backs. Oh well, keep on trying. I figured, worst case, I'd go have a drink somewhere, and just head back to the house.

I called MC-CC but, just as I called, the infernal one-step-above-trailer-trash neighbours set off more fireworks. KaliHellKitty screeched and ran off (first time I've seen her do that) so I hung up and went to see what'd freaked her so badly. She was fine, just startled, and was soon purring in my lap. MC-CC called me back. He wasn't up to much, but he was hosting the next night's featured poet and they were looking for something to do. Shameless, I invited myself over. Between the three of us we should be able to find something, right?

I bopped into town. Got to his basement apartment, where we sat and talked for a while. We talked about politics, gay marriage, relationships, etc. Then we went to the Basement--a strange, little bar in a built-out English basement. The walls are either paneled or painted (or both) with patches and lumps where the original walls have been painted over a million times. There's a lot of art up on the walls, vinyl banquettes, mis-matched tables and chairs, and a honking now Addams' Family pinball machine. Next to the bar is a planter that's a cop; pear-bottomed, protruding belly, sunglasses, sloped shoulders, sloped mustache, and protruding from the gap at the top of his trousers, a very phallic Christmas cactus with a bright red tip. The bartender said that it was a gift from a bar patron, after I admired it.

We sat down, had a couple of sips, and MC-CC took off, saying that he'd seen another friend of ours. After a while, they came back. I got a second glass of wine--and that's where it started going horribly awry.

I am not much of a drinker--never have been. Don't know why, or how, or anything. People have said that they admire my ability to not drink, but it's not even a big deal for me. That said, every so often I get my drink on. Then I pay.

What bombardment of booze laid me low? What morass of mother's ruin did I slog through? Oho, I'll tell you...

...one beer, two glasses of pinot noir.

Isn't that decadent? Isn't that over the top? Isn't that stupid?

Actually, stupid describes what I did. All alcohol, empty stomach, no water, and mixing. I ignored every one of my cardinal rules about drinking. A couple of weeks ago when I did the two shots of bourbon I had no ill effects. I drank a ton of water. I don't know what the disconnect was.

I spent all day yesterday in bed. Groaning, trying to find a way to lie that didn't piss off my belly, and waiting to feel better. KaliHellKitty was concerned, every so often she'd check me out. Making sure I still breathed, responded to external stimuli, that sort of thing.

The big excitement was jumping up and dashing to the bathroom to shout at the toilet. Of my least favourite things, being sick is among the top five. The lowest point was at about 17:00, when Mater popped into my room and announced that StepPater had brought home sashimi. bleargh "Now that's just mean!" I yipped. Her laughter echoed down the hall. *sigh*

Went to the Beat Revival...oh and it was rough. Got there late, drank nothing but colas and water, got a nice shoulder rub, and a reminder of an art show opening that I'm invited to next week. La. Art and stuff. Also talked to MC-CC about trying to get a show here in Stumptown for my photographer friend in LA. I hope we can get it together, and that she'll agree to show. If that happens, I hope that we can get some of her work sold.

Things are crossed.

Also talked with my editing victim, uh, client about getting together to do the layout and start designing his book. Talked to another friend about how to fix the layout of his book so I can get it copied. Got invited to a barbecue on the 4th, and a girls' trip out to the coast next weekend.

(Oh, FYI, the Vinos will be playing at Kelly's Olympian next Saturday night, the 9th. That's at 426 SW Washington St. PDX.)

Goodness. Maybe I should be horribly hungover more often...it seems to do wonders for my social life. *snort*

Go. Be fabulous.

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