I’ve got the Monday bluuuueeees.
I’m in a serious post-whoop-it-up funk after a glorious Saturday night celebrating my closest friend M’s 40 birthday.
Bonus track: My dear hubby has graciously allowed me to stay in bed all day (after all, he left me alone yesterday afternoon with the kids – raging hangover in full force – while he jetted into the West Village to watch the football game with friends, during which my patience level with the 2 kids plummeted, people. I well and truly lost my soggy noodle when the boychild nonchalantly decided to unravel an entire roll of toilet paper while looking me straight in the eye.)
I know this much is true #1: I have a very dear hubby who is willing to cut me a lot of slack. I am getting better (I hope) at doing the same for him (are you reading this, dear hubby??)
Additional bonus track: Reuniting with M and her lovely hubby, who live in Virginia and drove many miles for her celebratory fest. M and I went to college together and though I missed our first ever on campus girlie coffee-date (I overslept and woke up at 2pm, a concept which is now as foreign to me as having sex with an armadillo…oh hell, having sex at all….) we soon became fast friends.
Through our 20 + year friendship, we’ve coached each other through break-ups, job angst, existential yearnings, self-loathing, self-love and just about every other topic two close women friends prone to deep questioning and with high expectations from life could cover. Today, we both find ourselves stuck in mommy land – she is home with her two boys age 4 and 2. She is a true lifeline and I adore her more than I have words for.
To leave poop and diapers and demands and our precious little beans in another compartment of our brains for the night was much needed, as was the glam Manhattan bar and restaurant hopping we indulged in. Joined by other dear friends, we started off in the meatpacking district (or as hubby dubs it, the “backpacking district”) supping on frothy cocktails in the rooftop bar at the swanky Standard Hotel, followed by dinner at Fatty Crab and dessert at Perry Street.
Fatty Crab, for those of you haven’t had the pleasure yet, is a fantastically delicious Malaysian/Pan-Asian joint – with a laid back vibe and absolutely scrumptious drinkies. We spent the better part of 2 hours there, gorging ourselves. The only downside:
I know this much is true #2: Getting drunk on a full stomach does not work.
Countless tequilas later (we must get drunk, dammit!) we met up with more friends at Winnies, a karaoke bar in Chinatown. The crowning moment of the night? M and my’s rendition of Spandau Ballet’s True. I’m a closet exhibitionist, and so after pouring our heart and soul into the song, I was most disappointed to realize that a. no-one was clapping or cheering and b. one of our friends had fallen asleep at the bar. He’s prone to narcolepsy, but still….
I know this much is true #3: I am never going to make it to American Idol. Even though I routinely wonder whether they will ever have a 39 year old contestant on the show and fantasize about blowing J Lo’s mind with my rendition of Private Dancer.
Watch the real deal here, and enjoy a bit of goodness from the 80′s: