the punkification of carrie elizabeth [last name redacted]

The extended weekend with my sister was awesome. Here's the breakdown for anyone who cares. (Probably just me, but it's MY blog now isn't it.)

friday
Since I closed work on Thursday night and Carrie took the red eye flight from LA, we were zombies on Friday. However, there is always energy for shopping, so we put on our finest trucker caps and headed to Williamsburg. I bought a pair of denim tights at Built By Wendy, and Carrie got a turtleneck and somehow manages to make it look hot. We then proceeded to Beacon's Closet, where Carrie found two cute Marc Jacobs items for a combined total of $40, all by herself. I've taught the girl well. We toyed with the idea of doing some East Village drinking, but settled on wine and cheese at my apartment. It was not difficult to polish off almost an entire puck of La Tur, and the two bottles of wine went down just as easily, making two more glasses at Cafe Lux tragically unnecessary...

saturday
Except for the part where I got written up for being 40 minutes late, work on Saturday was amazing. I bartended the brunch shift for the first time, and my trepidation quickly wore off when I realized that I would have no double skim cappuccinos to make and the hungry, hungover masses couldn't bother me in my own little enclave of wine glasses. Due to some crappy weather, there was only one person who sat at the bar all day. That person happens to be a singer in this little band I kinda like. Once I deduced who she was based on her unique gorgeousness and the doodle of her name in her notepad, I stuck my head in the wine fridge to turn my face back to a slightly lesser shade of beet red and then we talked. We talked about the Environmental Protection Agency, the craziness of both of her bands' tour schedules, the superior quality of my restaurant's espresso, and Ultragrrrl's apartment. Then she put me on the list for her band's upcoming soldout show and solidified my girlcrush. After work I was pretty tired, so Carrie and I stayed in and I dyed her hair black. My bathroom now looks like an oil tanker crashed in it, but her hair looks pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.

it looks better with the dye washed out

sunday
I bartended again for Sunday brunch, and while no stunning well-known musicians came to the restaurant, there was excitement to be had. Just up the street, a Friend of the Waiters was having a Super Bowl party. Carrie came to the restaurant to watch me do my boring closing paperwork and then I proceeded to get shitcanned with my coworkers and a couple of male models. After the game we played Suits, at which point I blacked out for a little bit. When I regained consciousness, I was at an East Village bar with a small portion of the party contingent. Apparently, I did a smoker survey and got a free lighter, which my sister explained to me when I pulled a fancy lighter out of my bag two days later. Anyway, somewhere along the line I decided to sleep with a fellow waiter, a decision that turned out to be both fun and convenient since he lives in the general vicinity of the restaurant and we both had to work the next morning.

monday
I'm not sure if I was still drunk or just hungover at work on Monday, but it wasn't so bad, and there was no post-hookup awkwardness (at least not that I could tell, though my general perception was functioning at about 10%.) I'd ask him to bring rollups to table 4 and then think, "Oh yeah we had sex last night. Huh." He's cute and just the right combo of dork and cool so hopefully things will continue to not be weird. The one time I cursed my impaired state was when the Stunning Singer came in again for a to-go latte. I barely saw her, but she did say hi to me and was wearing a coat very similar to mine, which of course means that we are destined to become lifepartners. After work Carrie and I ate pizza and relived our Nick-at-Nite based childhood watching Dragnet, which is one of the three DVDs that I own.

tuesday
Tuesday was the last day with Carrie, so we tried to make the most of it. We did a little more shopping, but I was the only one who fell prey to the offerings at the Seventh Street consignment shop. Damn Marc Jacobs and his shiny little shoes, and damn Ellen for making me realize that it's fun to be a girl and possess footwear other than broken-in Frye boots. Now it was Carrie's turn to drop $100, which she did by getting her first tattoo. It's in the same place as mine and also a children's book reference. We held hands the whole time and I wish I'd had my camera with me because it was too sweet for words.

Hooray for New York, my sister, and financial irresponsibility.