Thank you, poppets, for all the birthday wishes. I can't begin to tell you how lovely that was. You guys are the best.
Now, I just don't know where to start. Too many pictures in my head... swirling lights and colours and flashes of images racing through my brain, trying to place themselves in some kind of order. The memories are reporting back for duty on a straggling, one-visitor-at-a-time basis, as it's taken them a while to climb out of the river of alcohol that has decided to re-route itself through my brain.
Let's get the worst thing over with first. I hate to have to admit to this, my darlings, but I became ridiculously intoxicated last night. Like... not sick and disgusting... but you know, definitely in my cups. Really, I had far, far too much to drink. I mean, people just kept putting beverages in my hand, and I just... kept... drinking... them. On the very rare occasions that I was left with an empty glass, I didn't think twice about heading to the bar to rectify the matter, both for me, and for whoever was around me. Gah.
Stupid of me, though. I think it's necessary to know exactly how much to have in order to loosen up the inhibitions, but still keep things in control. I dislike days like today, when I'm almost certain that I didn't say or do anything shameful, or give away a secret - either someone else's or my own... but I'm not entirely sure. I'm just hoping I don't have to hire a spin-doctor to explain away the night.
Thankfully, I knew enough to start on the water at some point early enough to stave off a morning from hell. You know, I should have known I was drinking too much when I started to become really concerned about the possible state of sobriety in everybody else. It may have been an 'all-together-join-in-the-fun' thing, but I doubt it. Even in my drunken state, I'm no fool. I knew there was no chance I wasn't looking ridiculous, so I had to either increase the ridiculous quotient in others, or make sure they were blotto enough to not recognize my ridiculousness for what it was. It's amazing what the brain can do when it's been pickled long enough.
There is a giant purplish lump on my left leg, right under my knee. Neither Teacher nor I could remember when or how such a thing could have occurred, and I just marked it down to yet another Unidentified Party Injury. Then, on our way back from Mamma Mia! (Birthday gift to us from my parents - amazing, wonderful show. Definitely want to see it again) I started examining it again, and Teacher said she thought that it was at the same levels as some of the lower placed speakers, or perhaps the little tables. And that's when I remembered. Sort of. I'm not entirely sure - and anyone who was at Bohemian last night may certainly feel free to fill me in... But I think that there was a small incident that involved a table, my leg, and some flying bottle spillage. Furthermore, according to Mandy - who doesn't remember the full details herself of course - but according to her, although I remained standing, the look on my face was one that clearly indicated that I was perhaps perturbed that someone would dare put a table in my path. I'm wondering if I should use the lump as some sort of memory trigger device, so that as I poke it, the pain will evoke a clearer picture of what in the hell I managed to do to myself last night!
From the calls I got today, it seems that everyone got happily smashed and had a lovely time. For the record, I had a fabulous time. These are the things that stand out the most:
- The DJ hailed the birthday girls, giving a shout out to Mare and Teacher. Hee! Happiness is hearing your name being broadcast!
- Pierce was there, which was a bit odd, because it meant my worlds were colliding even further. I was already throwing cousins and friends together; adding colleagues to mix is even more conducive to wierding out my mental environment.
- I totally think that Sleye's little sister and my cousin Zoolander should get together, because they're both model-gorgeous and stylish and hip and they would make beautiful babies together. Plus, they both look excellent in hats.
- The new beau in the group is fantabulously beautiful, and I had to stop myself from flirting with him several times throughout the night. I probably could have done a little tinkly-laugh-and-touch-his-arm move, as that's my game, my thing, my schtick. I flirt with everybody... but you have to be dating my friends for at least a year before I do it. Flirting with a new beau can be looked at as bitch-like misbehavior. Flirting with a steady and long-term beau is just fun. No harm, no foul.
- Tiny and I grabbed each other's Bristols far more than should have been allowed. In fact, I think at one point, I may have demanded that someone cop a cheap feel, just for flattery's sake. Thanks Mandy. That's what friends are for.
- I think of my cousins tried to teach me how to do a body roll. She manages to look like a very talented stripper when she does it. I, on the other hand, look like I have something large and awkwardly shaped lodged in a small and uncomfortable place. I think I'll stick with a good cha cha.
Ok, you know what's weird? Like, really, really weird? I didn't fall in love. I didn't even start a crush. No butterflies to speak of. But that's not the weird part. The weird part is that it doesn't seem to be bothering me at all.
Obviously, my supposed month d'amour came and went without so much as a heart flutter. In a remarkable turn of events however, instead of ruining my night by spraying on my Essence d'Tart and looking for (sordid and dirty) love in all the wrong places; instead of doing the walk-around and scoping the place out for Possibles and Hopefuls; instead of playing a game of Look/Look Away with some styu-pid boy, I just forgot about it all. I went in with no goals to meet my prince. Oh sure, you all know I hoped it would happen. You all know that I was kind of wishing that some handsome stranger would come up and ask me my name, thus starting a conversation that would end with violin music and walking into the sunset. But, at the last moment, I didn't go on a mad rush to meet this dumb deadline that I've made for myself, based on an astrological reading 2 years ago. You know what I think it was about? Honestly? Before we all headed to Bohemian, everyone came over to my house for cake and coffee, and Teacher and I did the make-a-wish-and-blow routine. There was a table piled high with amazing and thoughtful gifts, and everybody was having a lovely time mingling and bopping around to the music we had going. The room was warm with love, y'know? It felt incredibly welcoming, because they're all my people, and as I gazed at them all, there to celebrate our birthdays, I sorta shrugged off the Race For Love, and realized that right here, right now, this was enough.
So, boys and girls, what does your Mare have to show for herself on the celebration of her birth? I danced! I danced with everyone, all the time, everywhere, all night long! I danced; I drank; I was merry. And then I went home to my own bed, alone, and very, very happy.
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