can’t help thinking in sequels lately. dang that hollywood for poisoning my young and innocent mind!
well, whether i wanted to or not, i did get dragged into the whole christmas thing again. for the greater good of course. see i have a cousin who still thinks it is fun to go in Albanian parties. because she’s been working out two hours a day (and is 19), i said yes. i mean how bad could it be? of course i’d be the most ancient person there and as such, prone to drink to forget my woes and hopefull puppy eyes of the spiky, gelly hair high-schoolers, posing as crackers and whatnot.
and i had to take care of my girlfriend’s apartment while she is away. thank god she has no flowers, or cats, only bills to mail. so, i asked my cousin to take her stuff with her, (in order not to give the good jersey people a heart attack when strolling in her little baby pink spiky heel, glittery, knee high boots.) and meet me at the apartment. all good and ready for the party.
what i had not counted on was the attack of the bostonians. it started with the exciting call of one of my bbfs who drove down with her boyfriend and dog to meet with family and teh rest (her words) of course i had to see her and go out for a couple of drinks. then my cousin came out of the woodworks with her boston living boyfriend (the sweetest guy to ever care for monkeys, mice and my cousin, and yes i am completely turned into a green eyed jalouse monster again). then my virtual cheeky friend made his way down from Boh-ston to party with the canadian friend and me.
all very good right? what’s better than dressed and loaded to party, surrounded by cute and accomplished friends and with promises of drinks and rides home on a saturday? nothing, i tell you. except the promise of a four day weekend stretching in front of me. oh yeah!
but life is strange. i never counted on my friends getting old and wanting to hang around the neighborhood not to stray far from bella (the dog) and little cutie pie (the son). so me and my pink bootied cousin ended up at toska in da BX baby, represent! surrounded with old friends, cousins and sibling. we had drinks, fun and my voice was once again reduced into that hoarse whisper which apparently does strange things to the ears of males. hmm, as long as it gets the wax out, i am on santa’s good list.
so, on to the next day with the following part of the plan. at church with cousin, belle and its, the canadian, i sang my sins away ( i think i only had like one or two, it’s been a quiet season) and wished happy birthday to the Lord’s son. outside, i was presented with the sweetest gift ever, canadian maple syryp. yummy yum yum. (yes, i could not stop thinking of petulla). the rain started but i asked God to be nice since we’d jsut been to his son’s birthday party, so He eased it a bit and we were able to enjoy a very wet stroll through central park, full of sneaky squirrels and tepid tourists.
we arrived at Calle Ocho, a wonderful cuban restaurant with refillable sangrias and minuscule tasty brunch dishes. our boston friend and his current bed mate joined us. i do not remember much of the conversation, but i do remember laughter and merriment and a little salsa towards the end, in short fun. then we took our fun to starbuck around the corner, where i discovered why it is a bad idea to give alcohol to a 19yr old. (hint, she kept directing bathroom traffic).
by the time we separated from our wonderful Sunday brunch friends (pics on facebook) we were beat. i could not bear the thought of facing macy’s and its blood thirsty shoppers, so we went home instead, trying to come up with excuses instead of gifts. (this wrap paper came wrinkled, it was never used before, i swear)
so far so good.