So Much for Solidarity

by Jyll


10:57am, Saturday morning. Liz and I had a wonderful Friday night. We went to a lecture on post-modernism at NYU, went to dinner at a raw vegan restaurant after, and had a really interesting conversation about modern values and their effect on livestock, which translates into economic symbolism and a general lack of socialism.



Not.



Actually we blew off an artshow party in favor of going to my favorite dive bar in the east village, where we proceeded to get absolutely hammered on a few too many vodka and gin tonics, respectively, flirted with the bartenders, eyed the doorman, and drunk texted all the guys in our phones. It was fun. And we must have done a nice job with the bartenders because those boys were pouring straight liquor into our glasses by the middle of the night. I've been crushing on the bouncer for awhile (what with the tattoos, long hair, and dazzling array of chains on his jeans he is JustMyType) so when we left I brilliantly asked him his name and in exchange gave him mine and a dazzling smile. Although in retrospect vodka makes everything dazzling, doesn't it?



We finished off the night with the ultimate: DINER FOOD. A massive basket of fries and another of onion rings. Drunk noshing on salty fatty food is nothing, and the fact that we both killed about a one pound basket each isn't surprising in the least. What is surprising is that we also killed like an entire bottle of ketchup. An entire fucking bottle. And not the mini-bottle shit, the regular wide mouth bottle. If we'd each had four baskets of fries and a half gallon of ice cream I wouldn't have raised an eyebrow this morning, but a family size bottle of ketchup? Fucking savage.


2,000 fried-delicious-greasegreasegreasey calories later found us back at my place, stumbling into bed so that Liz could save commute time in the morning. Poor kid was up at 8am, after going to bed at at least half past 2. I woke up with her and decided to stay awake, because one of us sleeping in like a princess isn't fair if the other princess has to go work for the man*. I was going to stumble in and visit her at 9am, wearing my dress and makeup from the night before in solidarity and unity** but I needed to rest my eyes for a minute and...here we are.

Sorry, Lizzie.






*I took the children to the library last week and picked up The Biography for Kids edition of The Life of Lenin.

**I think it's having an effect on my personal life.