Well it's not the day back from a wonderful three day weekend if it's not crammed full of work. Lucky for me, court deadlines mean that once COB hits, it's COB, so I get to make it home for dinner, even if I spent the previous ten hours trying to schedule in breathing. Overall, not a bad Memorial Day weekend was had. I spent about 50% of it completely covered in dirt from rolling around in my garden all day, which also left me with a ridiculous looking back tan. That's the one unfortunate thing about gardening - I'm hunched over the whole time, so the front of me never really sees the light of day. I'll just have to make some margs and sit out in the backyard in my bathing suit top next weekend to roast the other side evenly. I'll save the garden update for a separate post.
Saturday night was the real fun. Wait, let's go back to Wednesday. Wait, no, the week before that. I got an evite from Tony's boyfriend, Nick, for his goodbye party because he's moving to NYC to live with Tony. On Wednesday I get an email notification from the hosts through evite that said, "Change in venue! The party will no longer be at our house, it will be at Heather and Christopher's house! See you Saturday!" Uh, what
? Immediately, I call C to ask him what the hell is going on. See, I like Tony's boyfriend, but I hate his friends
and hadn't planned on going to the party for that sole reason. They're rude, hateful people with no discernible personalities among the lot of them. I think they saw a gay stereotype on TV, like Jack on Will & Grace, crossed it with a transvestite stereotype (you know, calling everyone
"she," etc.) and pumped it up to whole new levels of vapidness and shrillness the world has ever seen. Apparently Nick and his roommate had some landlord issues, so they asked Christopher if hey could borrow his pad; he, so he says, meant to ask me first, but the hosts sent the evite change out before C could get ahold of me.
So, awesome. After berating Christopher and Tony, I sent out an S.O.S. to my friends and Chai responded to my pleas for help. We made a dinner and movie date - saw The DaVinci Code, which will require an entire post in itself - and had a fabulous time, quality of the dinner and movie notwithstanding. A couple of her friends were down from NYC (who didn't
have friends down from NYC this weekend?) and they were hilarious. Especially the almost getting locked in a downtown garage with a bag of moldy carrots part.
Unfortunately, we didn't have the stamina after DVC to enjoy a second flick as planned, so we headed home. At 11pm. Sigh
. I open the door to my house and 15 perfectly coiffed male heads turn to look at me - a woman
, who clearly did not belong to their clique. Though silence held for a second as they all rudely stared at the outsider (and I held back from stamping my foot and yelling, "This is MY house, bitches"), not a single one of them greeted me, until Nick's roommate, standing at the back of the living room near the hallway, motioned to me as I passed and quietly thanked me for allowing his friends to congregate in my house. I grabbed the first beer I could find, more or less slammed it down, found another, and then found my roommates and our friends from NYC segregated from the party in the corner of the backyard. I actually had a lovely time hanging out with them, thank goodness. Every time our conversation would pause for a second, we'd overhear some insipid conversation next to us and simultaneously roll our eyes so hard I'm surprised none of us fell over from the force of it.
Also, at one point in the evening someone mentioned my blog and Nick said, "Oh, I read your blog everyday!" So, Hi Nick. Sorry I hate all your friends! Which reminds me, I went to use the bathroom later in the evening and, since the door sometimes shuts on its own, knocked. A beat or two passed, and I hear two mockingly high-pitched voices sing-song, "Just a minute!" Tony walked by me just then and I nearly strangled him, and told him to get the fucking, literally, gays out of my bathroom. How more disrespectful
could people be?? We opened our house to a bunch of strangers and these two can't hold their cocksucking until they get to their own filthy houses? GROSS. I have to be naked in that bathroom for Christ's sake.
A few of the guests actually did make an effort to introduce themselves to me and Christopher, and thank us for letting them party there. Those boys are welcome back anytime. The boys who continue to call me "Fiona,"
despite the fact I look nothing like
Fiona Apple whatsoever, aren't. Tony told me that the next day at bunch one of them said, "Fiona looked pissed
because we took the blue chips off the fridge." I think it's hilarious they thought I was pissed about them eating our fancy blue tortilla chips (which I actually didn't see them touch and doubtfully would not have gone so far as to be pissed
about it if I had), and not, like, about the dudes who banged as hard as they could on the door while I was in the bathroom, even though Christopher had come by when he saw people waiting and told them, "Heather's getting ready for bed, she waited half an hour for you guys, so just give her a minute, alright?" (Christopher told me his reaction in the living room when he heard the banging, "She is going to cut
Ah, well. They left the house in tact (and also a yard covered in blotting tissues, handed out liberally by the Sephora-employee wannabe) and our floors are easy to swiffer. Not that I did any of the swiffering. Since Nick is probably reading this - good luck in NYC! Hope I haven't totally offended you. Christopher and I will come visit soon, I promise.