L.A. Fabulous

mmm. more toast

Oh, man. Hi.

Here’s the thing. For the past four days I don’t know exactly why or anything, but I’ve sort of given myself this mini-vacation/spring break/party zone thing. I’m still doing my work, it’s not even like I’m slacking, but late at night I’ve been drinking and partying and then I get up early the next morning and work.

Oh, toast. How you make me feel so much better. Thanks, Farmer’s Market, for making me want a loaf of rye bread. Thanks, toaster, for working. Thanks, me, for thinking of making the toast. Ugh. Take it slowly. Build up to eggs.

What was I saying? Oh, right.

Somehow it made sense to force myself to be in situations where I’d normally smoke and not let myself. That sort of made sense. Also, the fact that I somehow wasn’t getting any kind of hangover when I normally wake up feeling terrible after two glasses of wine was really encouraging.

But I think I’m done. It was a great four days full of funny stories and good times, but four nights of partying must come to an end. Because here’s the thing: even though djb is only here until Thursday, there are more guests arriving in like, two weeks and there’s going to be another mbtv party, and I don’t think my body can take the continual party anymore.

You think mbtv people would just sit around talking about television all night, drooling over a TiVo (thanks, stee, for making me feel guilty if I don’t type “TiVo” with a capital “V.”), ordering pizza and gossiping about other recappers.

Y’all. We scared and impressed Ray. Do you know how hard that is? He just kept making Mexican Martinis and we kept on drinking them and there were lots of chips that somehow I never got to eat and there were Coronas and we were celebrating way past Cinco de Mayo but it didn’t matter. We sent drunken email. We broke a chair. There was lots of yelling until way past a decent hour, according to my mother’s concept of “decent hours” and the time that “only crazy people are up.” It’s a complicated system of time zones and weather patterns. I’ll explain it another time.

At one point I realized, “It’s Monday night.” Then I realized that most of us are internet people that are currently close to unemployed. Also, most of this city seems to start work after ten in the morning.

This really is my kind of town.

Oh, man. But I am done. All of us kind of look like hesitant hell. We don’t really feel terrible, but we feel like we should and because of that, we’re all weak and need food. Soon.

But yeah, totally done partying for now. For at least a couple of weeks. But now I know I can have a party and not need to smoke. This morning normally I’d feel like a total mess, with a heaviness in my chest and my tongue all swollen and my hair feeling crusty. I don’t, though. I feel kind of swirly like I had too much Tequila last night.

And what had happened was, I totally had too much Tequila last night. Ray gives very small portions of his Mexican Martini. Somehow I think I had about nine. And an entire bottle of olives. And Doritos. And taquitos. And queso. Ugh. Maybe I didn’t have a cigarette, but I think I put everything else in the house in my mouth last night. Did I smoke Cal?

Oh, man. Coffee time. It is very much time for some coffee. djb is watching Roswell. I cannot believe how bad this show is.

What had happened was, we hadn’t all met before, but now I feel like the six of us have been having Monday night parties for months.

I can’t take much more company. My stomach and my bank account aren’t happy. I really always want to show people around and do the fun things they’re doing with them. Except for that whole Walk of Fame thing. It’s not worth anyone’s time at all. I like to drive down Hollywood and just let people see the sidewalk from the car. “Imagine you’ve heard of every third person. Great. Now let’s go eat.”

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