2003-05-26 || 8:52 p.m.
|| brian's birfday ||
i didn't get a chance to write about brian's thirtieth birthday party. there are waffles still crucified on the chandelier, the front door, and the curtain rod, and ghosts of waffles on the turntable, stabbed onto the wall clock, nestled on the mirror and among my metal grate collection. oy. so.
a)there were waffles.
b)there was lots and lots of alcohol.
c)brian was aglow and merry and a most handsome and dapper thirty-year-old.
d)i drank too much.
e)i threw up four times (one of those times in my bedroom among the cats, whom i was under the impression were my righteous animal friends and thus the only ones to properly help me, but upon heaving i noticed meow recoil in horror/disgust and i was left to my spinny lonesome)
f) i passed out.
g) i missed the rest of the party.
i remember becky being rather intoxicated. i remember some sort of tussle on the front porch when it was discovered i had gotten more kisses with becky than her boyfriend did (turns out most party guests were equal recipients..). i remember feeling bad for the sassy lads dubbed as 'the strokes' who might have felt em out of place or without comrades-in-big-hair-and-tight-pants. i remember a few jilted conversations in the kitchen with various brian-friends, where i'd try to follow along but then have to leave to wait in the bathroom for another possible waffle barf fest. oy.
happy birthday, dear brian.
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