'tis the season to be tipsy

Lord almighty, am I hungover today. Holiday party last night, open bar. I considered it something of a rehearsal for Friday's holiday party, which is going to have many open bars. I was only going to stay for a couple and go to my book club meeting like a good girl.

Four glasses of wine later, Polly says,

"We haven't hung out like this in months. I missed you! Skip the book club. Let's go drinking in Brooklyn Neighborhood."

"But I actually read this damn 500-page book! I killed myself getting through this thing."

"Well, then I'll read it, and we'll discuss it. Now let's go to Brooklyn Neighborhood. We have so much fun together."

"You are the devil."

The only other option was crashing the Wachovia party next door, but that was looking pretty boring, so off we went. How could I resist? The magic was back.

I think molecules shift and currents around us become charged when we're together. There's no other way I can explain the strange energy that Polly and I conjure up between us. We have this crazy bond and anyone who sees us together can sense it. It's our own private social bubble, but turns the rest of the world into an exciting place where anything can happen.

On to Brooklyn!

The first cozy bar we went to was manned by the loveliest and most dangerously charming bartender on the planet. He had me smitten within minutes and I had to keep reminding myself that his job is to flirt with women. Wow, but did he do an amazing job, the conspiratorial way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me (I can't remember verbatim, because yay alcohol, but it was intense). And I am not being delusional, but I swear there was a spark between us.

I waited to use the ladies room and he came out.

"What are you doing using the ladies room? You are no lady," I joked.

The man made me weak in the knees the way he looked at me; so scary.

He took both of my hands in his, squeezed them, said nothing, returned to the bar. Excuse me while I turn into a puddle.

More wine and it was time for a venue change. Down the street and we ended up drinking blue cocktails (good idea after so much wine, no?).

Decided it was a really good idea to drunken text Sean Pennish. He emailed me recently, as he usually does when he sees my Friendster status as single. Not worth the trip for mediocre sex, but I'm reaching the three month celibacy point, which is when I start to get cranky, and he is one of the only men on the planet I can sleep with and not get emotionally attached to.

He tried to get me to come over, but no way, no way. This weekend, maybe. I have nothing slated for the weekend. Would much rather hold out for better, though.

Almost made it home at a decent hour, but on our way out, my craving for a cigarette got the best of me.

"I hate to ask you for a cigarette, but I am absolutely dying for one." I pleaded with a guy smoking outside.

"Tell you what, I'll give you a cigarette, but you have to come back inside and have another drink."

Twist. My. Arm.

More blue boozy goodness, conversation with Sales Sam and it wasn't flirtatious, so I started chattering on about my blog, even gave him the link before I left, because why not.

Came home, checked my email, and sent a friendship request on a networking site to a guy in London, saying, "you are cute, I am drunk, and we have music in common. All good reasons to be friends." Seriously, people, keep all electronic gadgets away from me when I drink.

Feel like hell on toast today, but oddly happy. Anticipating the future instead of dreading it. Depression lifting? Let's hope. Medicating with alcohol? A little, but I'm sensing a shift.

I can't believe I'm about to say this after being Mistress of Gloom for so long, but I feel like something good is about to happen.