This day is right up there with the 4th of July in my mind. This is when it is not safe to venture anywhere near a bar for fear of stupid drunk frat boys and stupid drunk sorority cheerleaders screaming and yelling about nothing important, groping each other and throwing up in the back alley. I think a bunch of bars downtown set up some huge tent thing so that even more drinking and yelling may occur.
On a brighter note, I had a fabulous weekend. It all began with a wonderful dinner on Friday night with the sassy fiery Zetta. We have been slowly becoming friends over the last several years or so, and I am constantly delighted to learn more about her and who she is. Her sparky fire incites my sparky fire, and together we have laughed over grossly inappropriate things (which always seems to be a bonding thing for me) and commiserated over hearts and people and things missed. We have ranted about people we used to know and crazy shit in the world today. Needless to say, dinner with her was fudging fantastic.
I caught wind of a way to get $10 tickets for Portland Center Stage's productions of Twelfth Night and The Beard of Avon, so I snatched up two front row seats for both shows. How awesome is that! So Joelf and I spent Saturday afternoon and evening at the theater. How fancy! We also grabbed a quick sushi dinner between shows at the nearby sushi go-round, and while the food was mediocre at best (I mean, how fresh can the food be, when it spends who knows how long going around the restaurant on a conveyor belt?) the people watching was prime. While I do not love the food of the sushi go-round, the experience is always awesome.
Afterwards, we decided we looked too fabulous to go right home, so we looked for a bar in the Pearl to be fabulous in. We ended up at this place called district, where the bar was dark, the music was loud, and the patrons looking for sex. There were middle aged businessmen, slightly younger looking foreign businessmen, 20 something drunk blondies dancing with everybody who was standing, stout muscled gay men, several closeted gay men with their "girlfriends," and even what we suspect was a high class escort with her john. It was such an intriguing place that we stayed for two drinks just to keep watching the shenanigans. Go Portland, go. (And by the way--go, reader, go to their website--it is ridiculous and over the top. Just like their clientèle.)
Sunday Joelf and I walked down the hill to get some tea and read my guilty pleasure, Entertainment Weekly. Really, though, EW isn't a gossip rag or a magazine about makeup and shopping, so I have nothing to feel guilty about. The funny part about me reading EW is that I don't really watch TV, yet I know an awful lot about them TV shows anyway. Mostly though, EW makes me regret not having access to BBC America.
Right before the coffee shop we chanced upon a realtor putting up her open signs and so we followed her into a new loft live-work building and she showed us around the units for sale. They are your typical concrete box type lofts with the very high ceilings, wall of windows, and upstairs mezzanine where your platform bed would go. As trite as I may seem about them, there is something very appealing to me about loft style living. Maybe because to me it seems so City, so young and up and coming and adult and hip. Maybe because it seems to me the epitomy of single, or at least no-kid, living. It certainly would be much different than this leaky-windowed 1920's apartment that I occupy now. And I would OWN it. That is SO adult and grown up.
After tea and trudging back up the hill I had to hurry up and get ready for Cirque du Soleil! For Christmas I gave the Stooges (plus husband) tickets to the show, and I had just about an hour to get ready. The show was really great, very beautiful and fanciful like all Cirque shows tend to be. This one wasn't my favorite show, but I wasn't bored either.
Afterwards the Stooges went out for a simple fish and chips meal. It was nice to catch up; Cookie had been low with the flu so we hadn't seen her much lately. I love them Stooges.
I realised that being in my 30's and single and childless affords me many opportunities to get out and do stuff on a regular basis and that I owe it to myself to take advantage of that. Maybe it's because 35 is rapidly approaching and I am mildly upset about it. Maybe it's because I've watched too much Sex and the City lately, or maybe it's because I am a little bitter and jaded about my prospects for love right now. Maybe it's because I have a little extra money to spare/spend, which I haven't had for several months. Maybe it's because spring is on its way, the days are getting longer and the flowers are beginning to bloom. It could be all of these things and more, but whatever the reason, who cares. Carpe diem!