Weekend Parties

Going to a party alone is often a risky little business because there’s no safety net of friends to fall back on when conversation or dancing dries up. Despite reaching out to several people, I couldn’t get anyone to come party with me this weekend (but that’s a topic for another time) so I just went out by myself. Totally worth it, though. At the first place, I got to try some new beers, learn a little about my classmates, marvel at a nice-looking Berkeley home and practice talking up this beautiful girl Tatiana. Tatiana may have thought I was drunk because I was mumbling, but that’s just the way I talk.

Then it was off to S.F. to meet Naomi at her event. Three things about Naomi. First, there’s no way she has a real fucking job. I’ve never heard of someone living in SoCal who is up here like every other week. And she just explains it away so casually, I swear I think she sells drugs, dude. I’ve got to put on my yellow coat and become the detective for this one. Second, I need to come up with a nickname for her. In my head, I’ve been using Big Kate, but that’s not really reflective of her in any way and somehow I don’t think she’d appreciate it. Hmm…if only I could sneak the word “weed” in there. Last, isn’t it incredible those people who fucking metamorphose from high school? I mean, it’s like She’s All That, really. In the past, I would shrink away from her because I thought she was hella moody but now she’s a blazing hot comet (I know), vibrant and scorching as she enters my atmosphere. You’re mesmerizing, baby! Light my fire!

Anyway, so I got something out of the other party, too. Met a sports cameraman, hugged a blow-up doll, got some decorating ideas, discovered a new neighborhood…totally worthwhile! Some people are rolling their eyes at this list. But, since I never score at parties, I must take solace in the little things.