Oh, c'mon, it was bound to happen sooner or later!!! For those of you who saw my mistake this morning... tee hee. Don't tell. Love ya! The last few days was an after Thanksgiving Day Dinner type of weekend. FULL. Wowee, jam-packed with all kinds of events and people, just the way I like it. Friday night, new friend out with the crowd. He met up with Bunny and I to head over to a little local hole-in-the-wall to listen to some friends play their funky music. Fun. Live music, then a little after party, and whoa, I did not realize how much I drank that night. Okay, it wasn�t the quantity as much as the quality. I know better than to mix my alcoholic beverages. But I did, and shit, did I suffer for it. When I got home, I passed right out, and I couldn�t get out of bed the next day, nauseous and icky feeling, an irritating marching band of pulsation and pain making laps in my head. Ouch.

Nina's angelic roommate and good friend saved my hung-over life at around 1:45pm. She called and invited me to lunch with a group of girls, a local cafe. Hmm. I'd been dry-heaving (sexy) for the last few hours. Perhaps I should try to get out and about? I said yes. I got to the restaurant, ran inside, and scared a little old lady. See, no one is to know that I'm nauseous. I stared at her intensely with my mouth closed tightly until she finally left the little restroom. Sigh. But I found my ultimate cure. Slowly sipped matzah ball soup. Deep breathing. And an audience to appreciate your delirious, slap-happy, all-over fucked-up state. The girls had a field day with me (I think), and I enjoyed their presence (and salvation) immensely. I felt so great when I finally left there, so opposite the way I felt when I got there that I was energetically euphoric. Simply giddy with feeling GOOD again.

Saturday night was lovely. Blove, Bunny, and Barbarella, Ah, those lovely B's. Fancy French restaurant and a play, the Universal Monster Show. The show was intense, emotional. Are you familiar with the story? 1944, a circus tent was water-proofed with parafin and kerosene and burned down, creating hysteria, killing 168 people (at least), causing mysteries and scandals and a search for the true cause that still continues today. It was done well, I thought. But there was a point, over half-way through, two of the characters came on stage in fireman uniforms. I tried to keep my sobs quiet so as not to distract the small crowd watching the show. I couldn't look at them. I wasn't reacting to that part in the play, the things they were saying about saving the crowd in 1944. I was in September. I was seeing my cousins, hearing THEM say the same things that these actors were saying. Minus Jeffrey.

You know, I saw Jeffrey on TV last night, that 9/11 show that aired? After a day in Old Town with Pixie and her family (simply wonderful) and a bar-b-que at a friend's house (simply delicious and fun), I made it home to catch the end of 9/11. And they showed a picture of Jeffrey at the end. And you know what I thought? Gee, he hated that picture. Figures they would pick the one he's not smiling in. Hope Jane doesn't see this, she'll be pissed. But it doesn't matter, I have his Engine 10 smiling picture up in my place. And smiling, making a crack about his silly facial expressions and hysterical grins with only an empty apartment, my cats, and Jeffrey to hear me, I went to bed.

-Barbarella

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