Last night, I had the chance to be cool. This is very unusual for me since I have lived a life of ultimate un-coolness. My best friend emailed me a few weeks ago and said she could get tickets to the Lauryn Hill show. Was I in? Let me think. I like Lauryn Hill’s music and her lyrics AND she’s cute. I get to dress up, get my dance on, and maybe flirt with a cute young thang. Was I in? Oh, hell yeah. So, last night, I took more time than usual getting ready. Normally, I can be out the door in ten minutes. Last night, though, it took me a good half hour to decide what to wear. I wanted to wear my cute little black dress that made me look gooooood (ladies, you know what I mean), but it was supposed to hit sub-zero temps last night. And, while I love the cold, even I am not that crazy. At least not in the temperature sense. So, instead, I threw on a pair of black velvet pants, a black tank, a black wrap over the tank, and declared my wardrobe complete.
And yet, accessories! Every woman knows that the secret to a glam look is how one accentuates one’s positives. The problem is, most of my earrings are missing one of the pair or are broken. I like to wear big, bold earrings (partly because I have such long hair), so I was flummoxed. I had one pair of big black hoops made of African rubber, but that meant putting my hair up. I pulled the front part of my hair up into a high ponytail, and, because I’m OCD, spent fifteen minutes making sure it sat just right. I added a few rings (silver, I hate gold), a bracelet, and some lipstick. Cyber, by MAC, a colored girl’s best friend (in makeup). I have to admit, I clean up nicely. I threw on my stylish-yet-practical black boots, and I was good to go.
The doors to First Ave were supposed to open at eight, but that got pushed back to nine. I made it to my best friend’s place at eight-fifteen. We were standing in line to get into the club by a quarter to nine. We were in the door and coats checked by nine, and we were ready to groove. We hit the bar. I had forgotten to heed Angry Black Lady’s advice and take some Pepcid AC before going out–I’m allergic to alcohol like many Asians, and she says her Asian girlfriends SWEAR by it–so I knew I wouldn’t be able to drink much. Normally, I’m a bourbon and diet coke, gin and tonic, rum and diet coke kinda gal (I am the least allergic to hard liquor), but I was in the mood for something different. I decided I wanted to try the Twisted Ice Tea. It came in a 24 oz. can, and I felt a bit ridiculous holding it, but it was really really tasty. Deceptively so. I was drinking along thinking, “Mmmmm, yummy. There can’t be any alcohol in this–oh, damn. Yes there is!” It went down smooth and hit me hard. I think I might have drank a third of it.
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Boehner’s blubbering again — probably because he’s super sad that he can’t control the idiotic petulant Teabillies:
The boy recently determined that he wanted to start watching Glee, and at age 11 and a half, the husband and I determined that he could.
