Sunday, October 12, 2003

just when i think that i have reformed my sinnerwoman ways, a night like friday night comes along and erases all traces of such a thought.

the night started, as these nights typically do, with a large martini and a neccessity to get drunk. meaghan, jill and i met for dinner at houston's where we discussed politics and Felicity at increasing volumes over martinis and spinach dip. after dinner, jill and i headed to harvard gardens sans meaghan to meet up with my friend Matt. once we arrived there, we were a bit disspointed that the place was 1) so crowded you could barely stand, let alone sit, and 2) it was crawling with CSGs (Clearly Sketchy Guys). The winner of "CSG of the night' goes to the man sitting by the door, who had two sports coat, each draped over a chair (presumably in case some blind or very very very drunk girl gave him the time of day). I even asked the hostess if she could help us, since he had command of a rather large table and was neither sitting down nor had he any prospect of anyone joining him. She agreed itr sucked, and that I was not the first person to ask her about it, but unfortunately being Clearly Skecthy is not grounds for removal from a bar.Oh but if it were!

So due to the crowd and CSG factor, Jill and I opted to wait for Matt at her apartment, so we could partake of the Raspberry Stoli shots and the Will and Grace First Season DVD. This is step one of my inevitable moral decline: never take a break from drinking, only to continue to drink even more than you were previously. Doing this does not constitute taking a break. Thus, when we finally met Matt an hour later we were all the more merrier. We finally secured a table at Harvard Gardens and proceeded to gossip over even more martinis. After Matt left to catch the T, Jill and I did the only logical thing and went to Porters.

We sat at our usual table and once again let the gin and tonics do the talking. It was at this point in the night that we met Tony and friends (not to be confused with Tony and Pals, because I am quite sure that THAT Tony was never in jail for attempted murder). Anyway, as the night wore on and the bar closed, Tony invited us to an afterhours bar in East Boston. We of course accepted the invite, because Jill and I have the worst decision-making skills of all time ( I direct your attention to the Milton indoor pool/hot tup incident of 2001). Anyway, the bar was little more than a closed down storefront, but there were free drinks to be had, so we made the best of it while the guys regaled us with witty anecdotes and scathing social commentaries (haha, yeah right). In the end, I opted NOT to go stay at Jill's and woke up late Saturday morning in Waltham. I will say this, when the Towns North of Boston I Have Woken Up In becomes NOT a short list, it is time to face facts. I will also say this, when forgetting someone's name, it is helpful to have parole papers lyingn around for handy name-sighting.

In retrospect, I should have listened to my brother, who, as I was leaving told me "Change your boots, they look slutty". He is such a guru, sort of like Mr. Compson in Faulkner novels but not as old and not so much an alcoholic as a pothead.