X-Mas '07

Awesome. Absolutely awesome. Four-day weekend, lots of stuff to do, Dad's car key in hand. Wha-aa-t?

Saturday was wrapping presents, drinking wine before the sun goes down, opening presents, eating dinner with the fam - early Christmas-style affair. Quick exit home to meet up with Angie for more wine drinking and catching up. I obsessed about boys, Angie listened. And then she fell asleep - which must be a sign that my shit is tired. HA! We resumed hang-out sesh in the AM with a walk to breakfast and lounging on the couch. Sunday was mostly uneventful - laundry and cleaning ensued after Angie's departure. But some long needed Angie time was had - yeah!

Monday was ass-crack-dawn airport run to SFO with the fam. Oy. Waved goodbye and drove to the gym for a morning workout. From there headed to Maya's for some weed transacting and then hanging out at her pottery studio. I DJ'd while she handed pottery to people and we mostly just enjoyed the smell of clean and the sunlight. While I was there, I got a parking ticket and didn't even give a shit. Fuckers.

Next stop home and meeting up with Megan for some Christmas Eve drunken debauchery. We stopped by Safeway for supplies (necessary, but painful nonetheless) and picked up some champagne, beer and frozen pizzas. We put everything away and drove out to Ocean Beach to catch the Christmas Eve sunset on the Pacific. Epic.



We then went home and consumed pretty much everything drinkable in the house while Megan opened up her presents from her folks back in Texas. Pictures ensued, as did drunken girl-talk. We waited for Santa, but he never showed up so we passed out.



Thankfully, we were obsessive about drinking enough water the night before. Hangovers did not appear, which was good since we had to motor over to Los Gatos for dinner with Rena's family. Yum. Highlights - Megan setting her hair on fire after leaning too close to a candle; laughing about it for about an hour; prime rib by Rena's Mom; and the stoney drive back to SF.

We all decided to extend the weekend as much as possible by having a sleepover at my house so we could carpool into work together in the morning. Contrary to popular belief, sleepovers are totally still acceptable after age 13. Chatting and nominal wine-drinking ensued. As did a 15-minute commute into work. Excellent.

Work was s-l-o-w. Extended lunch and minimal productivity. Have a feeling the entire week will be more of the same. Work is low on my list of priorities right now. More fun with all of the aforementioned ladies is imminent and I can't wait!

It's been a while since I've had a few steady running buddies. Girl who can kick it and handle my level of intoxication when out drinking. Girls who can match it or give me a run for my money. Come to think about it, it's not just girls lately. (Slowing my roll, just as soon as I hit 30...) I'm pretty sure I can out-drink a large part of the male population at work now too. Word! Eye on the Prize. Point being, I'm digging this new groove I've stumbled upon. And I heart my drinkin' buddies.

NYE '07 may be looking good...

Epic Whiskey Drinking

Oh, Jameson. You do me wrong sometimes.

I think passing out leaning against the side of a house on the sidewalk in the Sunset in the middle of the night qualifies as drunken debauchery. I don't know what it is when you do it twice. In the same night.

I am missing some pieces of yesterday.

And I think I might die - but that could just be the beginning of the hangover from the pitcher of mimosas I had this morning.

At least I wasn't drunker than Erin Mountain. And at least no one took pictures of me passed out on the sidewalk.

Videotape

I'd like to write poetry in still-drying cement with you.

To spend a lazy Sunday not talking to you.

I know at some point I'm going to have to just come out with it. One of these days.

But until then, I'll continue with trying to make you laugh. It's the small pleasures.

It's such a naive little thing, this. At some point, it's going to realize that the world is not kind. And it's going to wilt and shrink and shy away. Because it's a lame metaphor.