Weekend

Saturday was the last day of the second session of my improv class. BB and the girl who annoys me so much do not plan to enroll in the next level. I am exceptionally pleased. BB had moved from my annoyance list to my pity list weeks ago as his inability to comprehend started frustrating him more than anyone else, but it was getting painful to watch. More than once he looked like he was going to cry. He'd hit a wall and wasn't about to make it through. The scenes between him and the Slayer-obsessed Nazi enthusiast (the real characters are the ones I could never make up) were the worst. Like autistics trying to make love. But never again.

After class the usual improv crew went to SUC's restaurant and ate sushi and drank and say around for hours. It was delightful. As the conversation ventured into the realm of sex, I found myself having a lot of trouble participating in the discussion. Phone Sex Girl couldn't talk about sex. But it's a topic about which I've gotten so used to making up random shit that I've become completely uncomfortable with the truth. It's much more fun to play the sexual dynamo without regard to reality or consequence. My relatively inexperienced self doesn't know what to say among friends. Bah.

We eventually dispersed and I met up with NBF. More drinking ensued, as did pizza. NBF had run the breast cancer 5K that morning and is already about 3K from being a night person, so at 11:30 PM he'd crashed and was ready to go home. I was not. I was wide awake and hadn't been out in days, so I called around and SUC said he had to close his restaurant but that I should come and hang out at the bar there. So I did. More alcohol and social interaction, and then I loomed around the restaurant office while he did all the official closing stuff. I'm sure the booze helped, but the company was good and I had a strangely fabulous time just talking. I got home around 3:45 AM. By the end of the night, I'd spent approximately 10 hours drinking. Not that I'd had so much, but it was like a slow IV drip of alcohol and I have the tolerance of an 8-year-old.

Woke up at like 8:30 AM extremely thirsty. I drank water and wrote that thing about "the grave burden that comes with having too much in our heads for our tender hearts to bear" and went back to sleep. Around 1 I answered the phone rather startled. Apparently Him had called four times. Even without alcohol I am a sound sleeper, so you can imagine how out of it I was. According to Him we were supposed to meet for brunch around 12 or 1. I recall no such setting of the time, but who knows. And what does he want for his birthday lunch? Mexican food. I was completely out of it and unable to make decisions beyond "I want coffee." I'm sure I was a fabulous conversationalist. And nothing is quite so fabulous after a night of boozing as raw onions and salsa. Really stupid. I didn't throw up, but that was a small miracle.

I got home with just enough time to change, throw things in my backpack, grab the dog, and head to my parents' for pre-Yom Kippur dinner. Thankfully, it was all extremely easy to digest. Kol Nidre services were long but good. I like this rabbi. He talked about love and the importance of community and human relationships. He's not a great speaker, but everything he says is completely heartfelt. I like that.

Monday we got to Yom Kippur services really early (like pre-Torah service with all the daily minioners and uber-frummies) and my stomach decided it was going to be cranky, so I left early and went home and crashed.

We went to my aunt's for break-fast, as we do every year, along with my aunt's two best friends and their families. We were supposed to get there at 6. We walked in the door at 6:04 and everybody was already eating. Conversations included the "right" way to put on a tie, how $750 is such a good price for getting your hair straightened by people you trust that it's worth getting a cheap plane ticket to New York City, my cousin's lopsided backhair, and single-cup coffee makers. My brother weaseled his way out of coming this year, so I was the youngest person there, but we're finally at a point in our lives that the 4-9 years isn't such a big deal. But these people (my cousins as well as their friends) live these lives of obscene wealth and privilege. That's where I feel the most different, even though I'm currently being supported by Mommy and Daddy, too. Some are still fabulous people. Some are not. But while my mother tends to have no tolerance for the people in her generation, I'm getting much better at accepting the Shiny Happy thing for the few requisite hours.

The weather was terrible and when I tried to drive home I discovered even the bigger roads were flooded, so I gave up and spent another night at my parents'. My dad came downstairs around midnight, unable to sleep. We ended up doing the Chicago Tribune Sudoku until 1:30 AM. Stupid, but exceptionally cute. Yay for daddy bonding time.

Today, I forgot to take my pills and didn't realize it until around 7 PM when the withdrawal symptoms started kicking my ass. Now I'm awake from having taken them too late in the day but I'm still feeling the weird-headedness of the withdrawal. Stupid Effexor.

At some point when we were at my parents' my dog actually got onto my parents' bed and licked my dad's face. For any of you who know my dog, this is huge.