Antigeist

Gonna party like it's your birthday.

Since Monk let the cat out of the bag, yeah, today is my birthday, and yeah, I'm hell old.

But I'm not feeling the effects of my age today as much as the after-effects of the fantastic party G threw for me last night. Oh sure, it started innocently enough, they always do. It'll be low-key, we said, we'll meet up with our friends at a bowling alley, do a little bowling, have a few cocktails, some cake, start in the late afternoon so everyone would be home at a reasonable hour, get a good night's sleep...we said.

But going out early tricks you. When you gather late in the evening, time has a way of providing a natural stopping point, it gets late, you gotta work tomorrow, you've closed the bar, go home, no more drinky for you. But when you've been partying for three hours and dammed if it isn't even eight yet? Well who the hell goes home at eight? The night's still young! Never-mind that you're already sauced, who cares that you haven't eaten; it's only freaking eight o' clock. And it's a party. And it's only eight. For christsakes.

Which is how you end up traipsing through Union Square with a fifteen foot tall bunch of stolen helium balloons tied to your hair and the firm belief they would support your weight in an attempt to fly. How you end up at another bar. And are lulled way past the point of no return by a pool table, endless drinks for the birthday girl, and The Very Best Of Queen on repeat...because the power of a nice buzz and "Bicycle" is strong, grasshopper.

How you end up with a life-or-death need for greasy, cheesy, goodness at the neighborhood all-night Spanish diner. Where--when the lump of huevos hits the booze in your belly with an audible splash--you are forced to consider the ramifications of drinking for the past seven hours.

So sorry friends. If you are suffering even a tenth as much as I am today, blame my foolish idea to go out early. And blame Queen.

Posted by Antigeist at November 22, 2004 03:10 PM