Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Single lady week, part II

image via weheartit

Michelle, my erstwhile roomie, hosted Dinner Club this week - a backyard picnic loosely French-themed in keeping with the Bastille Day holiday. There was a staggering spread of food - baked brie and homemade aioli and pickled carrots and les petits pains au chocolat and if there weren't others at the party who also appeared to be consuming, I could be easily convinced that I ate it all myself, every crumb, every bite.

After dinner we shuffled over to a neighborhood bar where several friends' bands were playing shows. I planted myself behind the barricade of sweaty people and closed my eyes and let it sink - bass drums, feedback and all - into my bones.

That last sentence should make it clear that in addition to eating ALL the food, I managed to drink ALL the drinks in the world that night. I make frequent comment of my love of having a beer or four, but since starting a Real Job (TM), rarely do I get canned on a weeknight. Maybe two other times. I am fiercely protective of sleep and not having a sawdust-tongue at 9 o'clock staff meetings.

Self-destruction in moderation is kind of my bag, though: indulging in the exception that proves the rule. The city smelled like soggy mint at 2:30 a.m. and I walked the long way home even though I was falling asleep standing up. Summer.

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