shiny happy

better than prozac


Seeing the above two weekends ago in between swimming in a torrential downpour and smoking...stuff in a canoe has completely cleared my head (except for last night when I couldn't sleep at all and got out of bed at 3:30 a.m. to watch a Tony Robbins infomercial and eat crackers, but I always sleep like crap on Sundays.) Anyway, my weekend was quite lovely, starting on Friday with my final review and approval of the advertising banner my boss designed. There was a glaring grammatical error that the boss, the graphics person, and the proofreader had missed, but guess who caught it? Who, you ask? ME! Then my beer and sausage extravaganza was quite fun, and when I came home from grocery shopping on Sunday to clean the zillions of bottles and grilling paraphernalia off the roof (I was far too hungover to do it on Saturday) I found it all neatly lined up in boxes and bags in the hallway for the super to take away, and my wonderful gay neighbor was out on the roof shirtless hosing everything down and sweeping up. He said not to thank him because he was just out getting a tan. I love him.

Speaking of girls who love men who would never sleep with them, Perplexa and I went to see Margaret Cho at the Apollo on Saturday night. I got a nice ab workout from laughing so hard as Cho brilliantly transitioned between rants about political inequality and stories about giant dildos. Feeling better about the world, Perplexa and I decided to walk home through Harlem. Beer was still the primary liquid in my bloodstream, so I stopped in a rundown bodega to get a bottle of water. Five large men were carousing by the fridge, and when I looked at it longingly they asked what I wanted, Miss, and handed me a mini Dasani. The man behind the counter said 50 cents for me, and I handed him a $10 as it was all I had. I started looking for enough change, but another man came up behind me, said he got it, and handed a couple quarters to the cashier. A little stunned, I left the bodega and told Perplexa the story as we walked away. It must've been the shirt, she said. (Thanks, Marc!) About a block away we hear someone behind us saying the usual "Hey baby, hey mami!" We of course barely noticed this and kept on walking, until I finally turned around to see the cashier holding up my $10 bill that I'd forgotten to take back. Had I been in his position, I probably would've just pocketed the $10. My faith in humanity was officially restored. At least until a few blocks later when we were called fucking bitches for not responding to some dude screaming at us out of his projects window. Anyway, here are a few of the 182 party pictures. (Don't drink and digital camera, kids!)

FABulous


party people


perplexing


cousin it


cuter than puppies


look through my window


why i don't feel a pressing need to move downtown