Three French Bacon-wiches
I'm not feeling terribly inspired and I'm going to Tim's comedy thing in half an hour, but I feel like I should write something just to let people know that I'm still alive. The result is that this entry is likely to bore you--to tears.
Thursday: I partook in lunch with April at Suzie's. She had chicken and string beans and I had a tofu dish and her leftovers. This week we are going to test-taste the 13th Street L'Annam because the one on 28th Street was my restaurant over the summer and their portions are colossal.
*Note-to everybody I've invited to dinner ever: The reason I take you to places with large portions is because I know most people will not finish and that is where my neutron star of a stomach comes into play. Watch out!
I went home and did all my homework for the weekend, which is amazing. That night I went to Ellen's room and watched the cinematic miracle of Van Helsing while eating Dinty Moore Stew (a euphemism for cat food) and cookies. I ended Thursday by nursing Joe's impending hangover--and by nursing, I mean making him drink water against his will.
Friday: I hopped like a bunny rabbit on the bus in order to lunch with Alis and Leigh. That evening I went with Leigh and Joe to see The Incredibles (even better than Van Helsing). I was surprised by how much I suspected that Ayn Rand wrote the story and even though I think Ayn Rand is a little scary, the parts of her philosophy that make sense totally worked.
I had to leave the movie early in order to throw on my dark purple dress shirt and leap uptown to join Suhxie at Lincoln Center. We saw La Traviata, staring the world's faggiest matadors, where we were surrounded by musty bitches in Chanel suits who have donated more money to the City Opera than American Airlines. After waking up, Suhxie and I went to St. Mark's to get crunked for Alis' Japanese bar based birthday celebration. Sara and I waited for the bus back home forever and it was cold.
Saturday: For dinner on Saturday, I ate a quart of rice and a baked potato. This carb-party in my stomach knocked me out for three hours. I woke up to catch the most tremendous sugar high in my life and then napped for another hour. When I woke up, the world became so dark and unhappy that I wanted to cry. Of course, several rounds of straight liquor later, in a room full of people in feather boas and body glitter, with a boyfriend in pink wraparound plexiglass shades, I felt much better. The Eurotrash party was much fun and I met plenty of new people whose names and/or faces are beyond my intellectual reach.
Sunday: Joe and I had breakfast by Blaire, who, in conjunction with beer and bacon, is responsible for this belly pauch I have developed. She made pigs in blankets (INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED BY HER) and french toast. Delicious!
*Note-The next time I go back to Boston, I think I'm going to request a blood test to check my cholestrol level. I feel like my incredible immunity from fat and hangovers masks the fact that if you wound me, I bleed lard and fudge and my liver is has actually become a bottle of an arbitrary malt beverage.
Joe and I spent the rest of the day taking extended naps or watching Celebrity Poker Showdown. As Sundays go, today was excellent.
Now, wearing the same clothes we wore last night, Alexis and I shall go to Tim's show. Perfect timing on my part, if I do say so myself.
Thursday: I partook in lunch with April at Suzie's. She had chicken and string beans and I had a tofu dish and her leftovers. This week we are going to test-taste the 13th Street L'Annam because the one on 28th Street was my restaurant over the summer and their portions are colossal.
*Note-to everybody I've invited to dinner ever: The reason I take you to places with large portions is because I know most people will not finish and that is where my neutron star of a stomach comes into play. Watch out!
I went home and did all my homework for the weekend, which is amazing. That night I went to Ellen's room and watched the cinematic miracle of Van Helsing while eating Dinty Moore Stew (a euphemism for cat food) and cookies. I ended Thursday by nursing Joe's impending hangover--and by nursing, I mean making him drink water against his will.
Friday: I hopped like a bunny rabbit on the bus in order to lunch with Alis and Leigh. That evening I went with Leigh and Joe to see The Incredibles (even better than Van Helsing). I was surprised by how much I suspected that Ayn Rand wrote the story and even though I think Ayn Rand is a little scary, the parts of her philosophy that make sense totally worked.
I had to leave the movie early in order to throw on my dark purple dress shirt and leap uptown to join Suhxie at Lincoln Center. We saw La Traviata, staring the world's faggiest matadors, where we were surrounded by musty bitches in Chanel suits who have donated more money to the City Opera than American Airlines. After waking up, Suhxie and I went to St. Mark's to get crunked for Alis' Japanese bar based birthday celebration. Sara and I waited for the bus back home forever and it was cold.
Saturday: For dinner on Saturday, I ate a quart of rice and a baked potato. This carb-party in my stomach knocked me out for three hours. I woke up to catch the most tremendous sugar high in my life and then napped for another hour. When I woke up, the world became so dark and unhappy that I wanted to cry. Of course, several rounds of straight liquor later, in a room full of people in feather boas and body glitter, with a boyfriend in pink wraparound plexiglass shades, I felt much better. The Eurotrash party was much fun and I met plenty of new people whose names and/or faces are beyond my intellectual reach.
Sunday: Joe and I had breakfast by Blaire, who, in conjunction with beer and bacon, is responsible for this belly pauch I have developed. She made pigs in blankets (INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED BY HER) and french toast. Delicious!
*Note-The next time I go back to Boston, I think I'm going to request a blood test to check my cholestrol level. I feel like my incredible immunity from fat and hangovers masks the fact that if you wound me, I bleed lard and fudge and my liver is has actually become a bottle of an arbitrary malt beverage.
Joe and I spent the rest of the day taking extended naps or watching Celebrity Poker Showdown. As Sundays go, today was excellent.
Now, wearing the same clothes we wore last night, Alexis and I shall go to Tim's show. Perfect timing on my part, if I do say so myself.