Most Random Saturday EVER
I cherish my Saturday afternoons. It’s a time where I look forward to unwinding from the week prior and look forward to the evening ahead. A typical Saturday afternoon usually entails ample amounts of shopping – usually with a notorious Ms. Downtown and friends. Yesterday, however, was anything but typical. It was a trifecta of frustration layered with copious amounts of fun.It all started as a usual day. I woke up on the early side, made coffee and breakfast, went to the gym…the usual. I was looking forward to a day of uber-girl activity – baking Christmas cookies. Of course what’s baking without a couple bottles of wine and a few gal-pals to keep the chef company?
Enter Downtown and our other good friend. I had just embarked on the first batch of cookies and we popped the first bottle open promptly at 4pm. Yes, 4pm my friends.
All was fine and dandy until my roommate arrived home. I can’t recall if I’ve told you all the tale of my highly anal-retentive AND passive aggressive roommate, but this Saturday was no different. I feel I’m a pretty darn good roommie. Clean, respectful, on time with paying the bills, share in certain responsibilities of apartment upkeep. Well, she arrived hope hoping for a nap and was extraordinarily pissed that there were “others” in her space. She proceeded to huff and pout, slam doors and generally do her best to make my friends feel unwelcome. Needless to say, I was happy when she left the building.
Strike one. Saturday night.
The baking continued and we opened our second bottle of wine. I decided to take a load off and watch some good old fashioned Sex and the City while the dishwasher ran. Not sure if it was karmic retribution for being such a "shoddy" roommate or if it was my bad habit of dumping coffee grounds down the sink, but we were up with a start when we realized the sink was backing up, nearly overflowing into my kitchen. Artfully, we proceeded to take buckets of water to the bathroom tub, while maintaining our pace on plunging the sink and sipping off the bottle of Malbec.
Strike two. Saturday night.
Eventually the plunging and scooping was too much for us to take, so after we got the sink under control we decided to meet up with the Producer for a party…in queens. Downtown and I rarely do non-island boroughs, but we can be convinced at the appropriate point in time and this was just the ticket to giving the evening a much needed boost. We got to the party (via bus!) and naturally were extraordinarily jealous at the size of the apartment. Over the course of the evening, we continued to gush about square footage while talking to every blazing gay man that ever existed. In a nutshell, we had a most fabulous time.
Upon arriving back on the island via subway, karmic retribution took it’s hold once more, where in my drunken state I got off at the wrong stop, leaving me stranded on the east side of the island at 1AM.
Strike three. Saturday night.
I was going to let it put me in a bad mood, but I decided to embrace the moment a la Breakfast at Tiffany’s style and take a short jaunt up Madison Avenue window shopping at all the designer boutiques. When I hit Ralph Lauren central on 71st and Madison (AKA uber-WASP-wear) I realized it was time to find an ATM STAT and hail a cab.
Heading home I felt that I had been burned a few times during the evening and would likely have to face the repercussions in the morning (more plunging and a bitchy roommate), but I had to remind myself that it’s these most random evenings out, where you’re literally dragged against your will (thanks Downtown!) that usually produce the best stories.
posted by Lisa @ 3:13 PM
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