Monday, 12 May 2008

This Boy's So Spectacular Not A Boy But A Wealthy Bachelor

I went to a dear friend's bachelorette party on Friday night. The details are a bit fuzzy (due to the fact that triples were the price of doubles so I drank triple gin & tonics all night. It makes financial sense people. Don't judge me.) I do remember K getting pulled up on stage at the comedy club and doing a hilarious dating-game sketch. I remember the waiter dropping garlic bread down the back of my shirt (shirt = ruined, Hillary = Very. Unhappy.) We rented a school bus for the evening because we had too many people for a limo. I think the highlight of my evening was when we were all drunkenly singing "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round" and fighting over the lyrics. The low point of my evening would be when I decided to take the train home instead of taking a cab. The train part was fine, it was the getting from the train to my house part that was a bit dodgy. My neighbourhood is sketchy during the day. At night? It's scary. My Mom gave me a rape-alarm for Christmas so I was clutching that as I teetered home on my stilettos. It wasn't until the next morning (when I found the rape-alarm in my bed) that I realized that I hadn't taken the battery protector out of it so if I had actually needed the rape-alarm, it would have been useless. I made it home safely though, and managed to get myself to bed by 3. Stella woke me up at 6 (6! In the morning!) so I wrestled her into her crate and went back to sleep. S stumbled in at 8, having spent the night downtown after going to a friend's birthday party. Stella was whining so he let her out of the crate and then crashed. I had just about managed to fall back asleep when Stella decided to vomit. Under our bed. After a spirited round of "you clean it" "no, you clean it" we both fell asleep. Vomit untouched. This is why we don't have kids.

The rest of Saturday was a write-off. I have never seen S so hungover. He's convinced it's because he's getting old (his 30th birthday is on Thursday.) I'm convinced it's because he drank $80 in alcohol. Regardless, Saturday was spent lying on the couch or lying in bed moaning about how crappy we felt.

On Sunday we went out for lunch with S's mom and brother. My Mom is in Ontario right now, visiting her family, so Mother's Day is postponed until she gets back.

Yesterday kicked off the Festival of S. (Birthdays are a big deal in our house. Significant birthdays are a week-long affair.) Yesterday's F.O.S. activity was a trip to see Ironman. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the film. I didn't love it but I also didn't hate it. I'd heard that there was more movie after the credits so we sat through 5 minutes of credits (can someone tell me what the "additional second second assistant director" does? anyone?) for a 20 second clip. I didn't understand what all the fuss was about but according to S it's the Coolest Thing Ever. So, if you go see Ironman and you care about comic-book movies, stay until after the credits.

I still haven't figured out what to do for today's Festival of S. I might take the easy route and just make him a (quick) nice dinner. We're supposed to be painting the bathroom tonight, so I guess I could be a jerk and tell him that his F.O.S. activity is painting.


  1. Ugh, I can't handle my alcohol nearly as well as I did when in college. What is it about getting older?

  2. There is nothing worse than two people sharing a hangover. Seriously. All I want is someone to feel sorry for me and it's tough when all they can do is feel sorry for themselves. Though, it sounds like the fun was worth the price!

  3. Yeah, aging is rough on the alcohol intake.

  4. $80. In. Alcohol. (Are you sure that Stella was the one who puked under the bed?)

    Happy F.O.S., um..S. :)

    And is it sad that I totally think you should do a Footwear Friday this week and post a picture of the shoes you wore to the party?

    Also, as far as the "clips after the credits"....I remember doing that for Clerks II, one of the Harry Potters and for Dogma. And all were just "Meh." Of course, that won't stop me from staying through to the bitter end because I hate missing stuff. And for $9/$10 a movie, you can bet your sweet patootie that I'm staying until the bitter end.

  5. i LOVE painting. if i was anywhere near you, i'd come help out.

    also... that post makes ME feel like i have a hangover for some reason.

    and what exactly IS a rape protector guard thing?

  6. Nilsa: I know, right? We had a 10 minute "discussion" about whose turn it was to get up for juice. Ridiculous!

    Over-Thinker: I know what you mean - the movie tickets were $12 each. And it was Stella who puked under the bed because she's the only one who can fit under the bed (our bed is really low to the ground because I'm a sleep-walker and if I'm in a high bed I'm a sleep-faller-out-of-bed.)

    Dactyl: Ooohhh I WISH you lived near me. I dislike painting very much. Actually that's a lie. I like painting, I just hate all the cleanup afterward. Ok, I'm going to try to describe the rape alarm without butchering it. It's a small, keychain-type contraption that has a flashlight on 1 end and a little stick-looking thing on the other. If you pull the stick out, a really high pitched alarm goes off (the logic being that if someone heard it they would come rescue you from being raped.) It should be noted that this is not something I bought for myself; my mother bought it for me (for Christmas!) I keep it in my bag because she's been known to ask about it on occasion (and it's so much easier to just cart it around with me constantly so I can pull it out on demand - ha that sounds dirty - rather than have to explain to her why I am not actively protecting myself against being raped.) Anyway, the rape alarm comes with a piece of plastic separating the battery from the battery-matchy part of the alarm (do you love it when I talk technical to you?) I'm guessing it's so assholes don't set the rape alarms off in the store and drain the battery. In order to activate the rape alarm, you have to take a ridiculously small screwdriver, take the battery cover off, and remove the plastic. This is obviously something I haven't done yet (and probably will not do. Because of the laziness.) Ha - longest comment ever. I should have made it another post :)

  7. haaaaa oh dear am i familiar with that sort of saturday... and GOD aging sucks on the hangover-intensity scale. GAH.

    happy painting....!