I’m sorry…is that sacrilegious?
I got no sleep since the cocktail party next door turned itself into an all night orgy, and no I did not go.
However, I did get rather tipsy staggering around in my pumps with quite a few cookies in my teeth. Twelve hours later I’m still flossing.
Camille called from the King Cole Bar’s ladies room to say Malcolm was turning into a huge bore, at least I think that’s what she said. Between my hearing and all that champagne, who knows. That’s the trouble when you’re over fifty, you have the attention span of a fly. Having a drink with a suit say on a Thursday is a whole lot different than suffering him on a holiday. You’d think Brains would have known better.
I never did get to have Clarence since his parents had already gone out for the night which launched such a swoon on my part.
The thought of having a cat for a few hours held ultimate appeal. I even went out and bought tuna fish preparing to spoon feed him.
Reminded me of my ex who’d always buy caviar Xmas Eve.
I’d say the room started spinning at around 11 continuing till 3. Nothing like being on the Tilt-A-Whirl when you should be at midnight mass.
The only reason I didn’t go breaking a lifelong tradition, and this is said with real regret, is that I can’t hear the music. Rather than organ and choir it would sound more like a bunch of bees in a hive. It’s very upsetting, but I’m learning to just accept my limitations.
In between throwing up and pretending to be Liza Minnelli in Cabaret the soundtrack on full blast drowning out the festivities next door, I read three more of David’s holiday essays that seemed to go with the slanting of the room.
Dinah the Christmas Whore might end up being my favorite.
Here’s a tip for the New Year:
If you want to stop drinking, over drink, because you’ll find yourself making deals with the Almighty like, please God, if you’ll just make the room stand still I’ll never touch a drop of alcohol again..not even rum cake…or…I’ll go back and work at the shelter making meatloaf for 35….or…I won’t be mean to anyone again, not even Trudy and I’ll even bring her some leftover meatloaf after I do all those dishes myself without gloves.
Joy to the world…