Blink and spin
08 January 2006 at 7:28 pm

It was, overall, a nice weekend save for me throwing up at 3am on Sunday morning with my mom mere feet away. I got everything I needed and a few things I didn't. Dinner was a complete success --- $300 including tip for a bottle of wine, two rounds of cocktails, and about a hundred courses for five people. It was the same people as last year -- my mom, Matt, Katie, Sam, and me -- and where last year my mom serenaded us with the theme song to Alfie, this year she gave a rousing rendition of Muskrat Love upon the server sending us a bottle of Moscato for dessert. I was beyond stuffed and way beyond tipsy when we sent my mom and my brother home and Sam, Katie and I spent a frustrating fifteen minutes trying to hail a cab to get to our old haunts. I forgot that I never went out on the weekends to my usual bars and was kind of pissed to find them too crowded to enjoy. We found ourselves in several awkward conversations, though I was pleased that by the end of the night my feet, stuffed into my new five-inch wedge heels, were no longer killing me thanks to the severe intake of alcohol I had treated myself to (my back, however, paid the price this morning). We caught cabs to our respective homes (mine, the Hyatt off Union Square) and I found myself in bed begging my eyes to stay open so that I would fall off the universe which began spinning irritatingly whenever my eyes unwittingly shut. "Blink and spin," I thought. "Blink and spin." I got up to throw up, went back to bed, and then went to throw up again. I was merely out of it when I woke up this morning, but the drive back was made more miserable by my ever-so-slightly fuzzy brain.

It was nice to be reminded that, yes, I do have friends and yes, I can go out and have fun and hold a conversation with a complete stranger while 90% inebriated. Good times were had, money was spent, and it was just the way I wanted to spend my belated birthday weekend.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.