Forget the taming mousse, I'm shaving my head

It is so humid here.

I was deceptively lulled into believing that our East Coast summer was going to be all breezes and butterflies.

Apparently not.

When I left the house this morning, I caught my reflection in a window. With my unruly, curly hair running wild on top and the kitten heeled peep-toes adorning my feet, I could have been mistaken for a Jersey whore.

Thankfully I don't have 2 inch bloodred fingernails with little rhinestone designs. I'm sure that's the only thing that kept the guy outside the Metro from offering me $50 and a good time.

A is for Asshole

Last night, we were in a very cute little restaurant in Shirlington drinking margaritas and laughing at life. I was about halfway through my on-the-rocks big gulp when a couple with a small child (2, maybe 2 1/2) sat down next to us. I may sound critical, but these were some annoying yuppy parents. Perfectly coiffed and dressed, trendy bags and accessories, with a kid who looked like she stepped out of a catalog. And each time the girl made a noise - not a yell or a scream or even a sound of displeasure - the parents would try to distract her using too-loud voices and high pitched sing-songs. At one point, the mother whipped out her copy of "A is for Apple, B is for Banana" and began to read at the top of her lungs. The child looked disinterested and played with the food in front of her and the father gulped his margarita like he was dying in a desert.

To amuse ourselves, we came up with our own A, B, C, for any yuppy parent (or alcoholic).

A is for Amaretto Sour (or Apple Martini if you are a 20-something mom)
B is for Bacardi
C is for Carbomb
D is for Dirty Martini
E is for Extra Dirty Martini (mmm)
F is for Frangelico
G is for Goldschlager (or Glenfiddich for dads that knocked up their third wives)
H is for Hypnotic
I is for Island Punch
J is for Jaegermeister
K is for Ketel One (my fave)
L is for Limoncello (for the well traveled yuppy) or Long Island Ice Tea
M is for Margarita (make me another)
N is for Nipple Shots (for the nights when you leave the kids at home)
O is for Oatmeal Cookie shots
P is for Pina Colada (and getting caught in the rain)
Q is for Quaalude (the shot, not the pill...)
R is for Rum
S is for Sex on the Beach
T is for To Go, Please
U is for U come here often? (for divorced yuppy parents)
V is for Virgin
W is for Why is Mommy passed out on the couch?
X is for Xerox your ass on the copier - you know you've done it before...
Y is for You drunk ass
and Z is for zzzzzzzzz

a girl in a hotel bar

ignoring the slip of doubt in my throat i order the dirty martini to chase down two extra strength advil. my head throbs a staccato melody - a fireworks explosion after shotgun bursts in my tender brain.

i suck on an olive, tease the pimento out with my tongue.

the bartender asks me if i'm here on vacation. i shake my head. the smooth surface of the pimento glides a salty trail along the roof of my mouth. sharp liquid swells over my lips. i play with it before swallowing. my entire drink becomes an event - tip, swirl, coax, twirl, slide sweetly down. i'm having sex with icy vodka.

fox news is reporting the father of anna nicole's baby. i'm sickened by the media attention, the display, but i continue to stare at the tv. i'm not the person i used to be.

if i was another me, i'd talk to the bartender, the person deliberately sitting too close to me making loud comments and staring at me out of the corner of his eye. tonight, i ignore both.

the bartender refills my water. everything ok there, honey? i nod. how's your headache? fine, thank you.

i scribble words on a cocktail napkin.

animosity
thirsty
ostentatious
purpose
self
synthesis

the guy next to me laughs, tries to draw me into conversation.

it occurs to me that i never was an extrovert - my outgoing nature a grand performance with props and costumes. more often than not now i'm introverted - more true to myself, sometimes akward to others. i simply don't need approval, and don't desire small talk.

time is too important and i just want another fucking martini.

Religion, part two

And then there was the Daquiri Drive-Through shack filled to the brim with churning hurricanes, pina coladas, and bellinis in 36 ounce To Go cups. And we were in New Orleans where imbibing alcohol on the streets is encouraged.

And life became full of giggles... and beads.

Religion

And then there was a dirty vodka martini. Four perfectly ripened large olives, a single straw snaked through their green flesh. Smooth Ketel One sullied with a splash of salty green.

And all was right with the world.

Note to Self

Dear 20-year-old Self,

Hi! It has been a long time since I've thought about you. I was looking through pictures the other day and saw your face. Can I just say that you looked good girlfriend! No lines, thinner than what you've recently become, calves like steel. Pretty cute with your gothy black hair and sun-deprived Pacific Northwest face.

I just have one question for you.

Why the hell didn't you bang more guys? I mean, I know your bright green eyes were transfixed on that cigarette-puffing-pepsi-chugging first love prince of yours - but dude, he was fucking around on you! You should have dumped his ass and scored with British Rob! That night he knocked on your door at 2AM licking his English lips and you turned him away because you didn't want to be slutty.

All I'm saying is that if you knew then what I know now, you'd have appreciated your flexibility a little bit more.

Love,
Your 30-year-old Self

Time Zones

Rarely is the question asked...is it too early for beer?

I mean, really. What is the appropriate time to start drinking beer? Back when I owned OnSite Plumbing, ten o'clock in the morning was acceptable. That was a portent of things to come...

But I grew and changed and became more respectable (really). And I found that once one becomes a responsible adult, the question usually becomes, "When is it too early for a martini?"

I know the answer to that question. It's never too early for a martini. In fact, it should be martini time, all the time. Unless it's margarita time, which for those of you who are curious runs between 4:00pm and 9:00pm. After that it is tequila time. This is usually followed by floor time.

Anyway, I've never found an acceptable answer to when it's too early to start imbibing one's daily allowance of carbo-licious goodness. If anyone knows the answer, I'll be by the pool contemplating this question with a Michelob light in my hand.