The Weekend Passe (accent on the "e")
Sup? It is Monday night and I just inhaled a mozzarella/pesto ciabatta sammich and all is right in the world. I am still recovering from a fun fun weekend. And I am also in the middle of a biggish project. I've been a bit of a pain in the tuckus by writing on Facebook about "MY EXCITING NEWS!" that I can't reveal yet. I apologize. But all will be revealed soon. On Friday evening I had a meeting that ties into MY EXCITING NEWS and I kind of feel like I have been on a legal high ever since. All will be revealed soon. Soon, my pretties, soon.
Saturday turned out to be an awesome awesome night. I took my early morning walk with my friend. We did 14 k which is absolutely insane and pretty awesome and yet my pants are still too damned tight. Ugh. Then I pulled out the Christmas decorations and the Michael Buble Christmas CD. The Husband was all like:
"Why? Why are you doing this? It's too early!" and I was like "Well, I figure if I see what we have in terms of decorations, I will end up not buying more stuff that we don't need. Technically we would saaaave money!" and he was all like "Dear, we have so much stuff. Why would you need to buy more?!?" and then I was all like, in my head "Probably shouldn't tell him about the large silver reindeer I spied at Kare that I waaaaant!" Anyway, our apartment is all sparkly and pretty and I showed restraint by not putting up the tree. And that wasn't really restraint... that was more due to the fact that I haven't bought more LED lights so that our tree sucks so much energy that Greenpeace will burn our effigies in the street. A girl can dream.
Later in the afternoon I headed out and met up with a friend for a couple of glasses of wine in the center and then I headed to dinner. One of my oldest and bestest friends was in town and her mother invited us to dinner at her place. To prepare, I wore a stretchy dress. It was also my friend's sister's birthday. Now, I have seen her sister since she became an adult but I have this tendency to forget that everybody ages along with me. When deciding on a gift I thought to myself "Wine? Or a diary with unicorns on it so she can write about the 8th grade." By the way... my brother is literally still 7. A child lawyer. A Doogie Howser if you will. Sidenote: my friend's sister is now in her 30's and after a great night out, the memory of her as a kid is long gone.
I showed up for dinner, broke a couple of ribs to accomodate and ate my weight in sarma and cake. Dear lord the woman can cook. I have such fond memories of going to my friend's place as a teenager and being made into foie gras. You can't say "no" to her. She's a pusher of food. Of amazing, delicious food. You know what? I'm still full. What was so great about the dinner was the laughter and the memories. Plus, I got to reconnect with someone I went to school with in Moscow. The world, it is small. After getting the diabetes, it was time to head to the bar.
Somehow, after a few glasses of wine, I turned into a one woman show. I acted like someone who never goes out and it was baaaad. So very very bad.
By the time we got to the bar, I was onto my second act. I was on fire. I was inappropriate. I cackled and passed out my blog business cards like crack to street kids. It was baaaaad. I also quickly graduated through my stages of laughter over and over again. There are four stages to my laughter. It starts out as a chuckle. Then it goes to a giggle with a bit of a snort at the end. Then, if I'm still amused, I go into a dry heave all Mutley style (the Wacky Races years) and then when I really can't hold it back, it turns into what is known as the dreaded Woody the Woodpecker. Dogs 3 blocks away can hear it. It is terrible. It is maniacal. And the whole time I was "on", a little voice in me yelled "STAHP TOVA! STAHP!" and yet... I could not stahp.
The night was too much fun and it was good to laugh. I was also so happy to meet up with another old friend I hadn't seen in a few years. He's not on Facebook much so I tried to catch him up with what was happening in my life:
Me: So, yeah, I'm still married and I had a kid!
Him: I know. I read your blog.
Me: You do?!? Wow! Awesome..
30 minutes later.
Me: So, like, we moved to the 4th district.
Him: I know, I read your blog.
Me: Oh yeah. Wow.
30 minutes later.
Me: So like, the Kid started a new daycare after being kicked out of the old one.
Him: I know, I read your blog.
Me: DAMMIT!
I should probably pick and choose what I post lest I run out of things to tell people. Or actually, on second thought, based on my behaviour on Saturday night, I need to NOT meet people I don't know. Ugh. The memory is re-surfacing. No more parties for Tova.
I got home just before 2 and slept the sleep of champions until I was woken up by the Kid at 7. Luckily I survived Sunday and now, well now it is Monday. My friend came by for a bit to see the Kid and so that we could have a quick catch-up since nobody was able to interrupt my "set" on Saturday. She lives in Barcelona and I am desperate to visit her. I told her that I have to convince the Husband that I can go away for a weekend to a land with men who make love by playing their guitars.
My friend said:
"Just tell him that they are all hairy!" to which I responded with "Have you not met my husband? He's half Armenian!" and she was like "Oh yeah." and then I said "Tell him that they are all poor artistic anarchists in Barcelona! Then he would know I wouldn't be interested!" Guys, I didn't choose the snob life, the snob life chose me.
So that was the weekend. It was a laugh a minute. I am shamed. And now, I really need to go to Barcelona because I have promised my friend I would visit for the past 4 years. Watch this space. Barcelona in April? Perhaps!
 |
| Patience. Shhhhh. |
"Why? Why are you doing this? It's too early!" and I was like "Well, I figure if I see what we have in terms of decorations, I will end up not buying more stuff that we don't need. Technically we would saaaave money!" and he was all like "Dear, we have so much stuff. Why would you need to buy more?!?" and then I was all like, in my head "Probably shouldn't tell him about the large silver reindeer I spied at Kare that I waaaaant!" Anyway, our apartment is all sparkly and pretty and I showed restraint by not putting up the tree. And that wasn't really restraint... that was more due to the fact that I haven't bought more LED lights so that our tree sucks so much energy that Greenpeace will burn our effigies in the street. A girl can dream.
 |
| Damn straight, Walt. |
I showed up for dinner, broke a couple of ribs to accomodate and ate my weight in sarma and cake. Dear lord the woman can cook. I have such fond memories of going to my friend's place as a teenager and being made into foie gras. You can't say "no" to her. She's a pusher of food. Of amazing, delicious food. You know what? I'm still full. What was so great about the dinner was the laughter and the memories. Plus, I got to reconnect with someone I went to school with in Moscow. The world, it is small. After getting the diabetes, it was time to head to the bar.
Somehow, after a few glasses of wine, I turned into a one woman show. I acted like someone who never goes out and it was baaaad. So very very bad.
By the time we got to the bar, I was onto my second act. I was on fire. I was inappropriate. I cackled and passed out my blog business cards like crack to street kids. It was baaaaad. I also quickly graduated through my stages of laughter over and over again. There are four stages to my laughter. It starts out as a chuckle. Then it goes to a giggle with a bit of a snort at the end. Then, if I'm still amused, I go into a dry heave all Mutley style (the Wacky Races years) and then when I really can't hold it back, it turns into what is known as the dreaded Woody the Woodpecker. Dogs 3 blocks away can hear it. It is terrible. It is maniacal. And the whole time I was "on", a little voice in me yelled "STAHP TOVA! STAHP!" and yet... I could not stahp.
The night was too much fun and it was good to laugh. I was also so happy to meet up with another old friend I hadn't seen in a few years. He's not on Facebook much so I tried to catch him up with what was happening in my life:
Me: So, yeah, I'm still married and I had a kid!
Him: I know. I read your blog.
Me: You do?!? Wow! Awesome..
30 minutes later.
Me: So, like, we moved to the 4th district.
Him: I know, I read your blog.
Me: Oh yeah. Wow.
30 minutes later.
Me: So like, the Kid started a new daycare after being kicked out of the old one.
Him: I know, I read your blog.
Me: DAMMIT!
I should probably pick and choose what I post lest I run out of things to tell people. Or actually, on second thought, based on my behaviour on Saturday night, I need to NOT meet people I don't know. Ugh. The memory is re-surfacing. No more parties for Tova.
I got home just before 2 and slept the sleep of champions until I was woken up by the Kid at 7. Luckily I survived Sunday and now, well now it is Monday. My friend came by for a bit to see the Kid and so that we could have a quick catch-up since nobody was able to interrupt my "set" on Saturday. She lives in Barcelona and I am desperate to visit her. I told her that I have to convince the Husband that I can go away for a weekend to a land with men who make love by playing their guitars.
My friend said:
"Just tell him that they are all hairy!" to which I responded with "Have you not met my husband? He's half Armenian!" and she was like "Oh yeah." and then I said "Tell him that they are all poor artistic anarchists in Barcelona! Then he would know I wouldn't be interested!" Guys, I didn't choose the snob life, the snob life chose me.
So that was the weekend. It was a laugh a minute. I am shamed. And now, I really need to go to Barcelona because I have promised my friend I would visit for the past 4 years. Watch this space. Barcelona in April? Perhaps!
I am a poor artistic anarchist and I still read the blog
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