Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Happy 2008
This morning I woke up to "Happy New Year" in reverse smeared into my bedsheets with big red letters. One might take that as a euphemism for vomiting last night's heavy consumption, but no. I was dancing to nu-wave at some hipster's loft party when Kendra asked me if I wanted her to write on me. Drunk at 3am, this sounded like a great idea. More heavily hit was Tim, a fellow TotalFarker that I'd just met and hadn't amply prepared for the madness, who still can't remove "Blonde N Bitchin is a pimp" from his arm.
Rewind to the beginning: April, Tim, and I headed to Kendra and Michael's house in Central Seattle, where we (well, I) killed a bottle of my new favorite wine, Monkey Bay Sauvignon Blanc. April got Ethiopian food from somewhere, which almost made my head asplode.
The five of us then went to Queen Anne, where we attended a frou-frou house party overflowing with delicious hors d'oeuvres and fashionable people. I remained pleasant (read: quiet) while downing another bottle of Monkey Wine and a colorful assortment of fine cheeses. The hostess gently chided me when I poured a glass of water from the sink and handed me a Brita pitcher. "We don't drink tap water in this household," she told me, for matters of appearances, as far as I can guess. "It's cool," I replied, and downed my pedestrian beverage. I love that people like that exist in this world because they make me appear down-to-earth, a quality I seem to lack.
A little before midnight, a bunch of us headed downstairs to view the fireworks by the Space Needle:
The fireworks were short and sporadic, but it was a good enough reason to stand outside and scream "Happy New Year!" with a bunch of strangers. Someone brought a bottle of champagne, and I just happened to bring a glass. I love when things work out.
When the fireworks were over, I carried that glass to the car, and our faithful DD carted us to the next stop, a loft party in Pioneer Square. It appears as though someone died there before we arrived, as evidenced by this:
And of course, it was there that I partied the way Mother Nature intended: loud music, fucking hipsters, dancing, champagne, and nonsensical conversations with people I will never see again. As an aside, do men think that complimenting the intelligence of a woman they've just met is a good way to get into her pants? Is it? I'm always wary of people who tell me I'm smart just after talking to me for a few minutes, especially if I'm drunk. It feels insincere and leads me to believe they want something.
Anyway, that was NYE 2007 for me, thanks to my date April, who is AWESOME for making it happen with such short notice.
