I spent most of the day light hours recuperating from the previous night's gathering. Yes, swallowing more then two glasses of wine does bad things to me. So, I actively lied around all day until it was time to ready myself. (Of course I did the bare minimum of activities.)
When I was readied in my 20s Lady get up (I know not very inventive.) I headed to Chelsea. On route a pack of ninjas did a dance party around me to bumping music that blared from a nearby car, and I thought with a smile across this face, it has begun.
After emerging from the Union Square station I did not keep the parade in mind. The whole Avenue was blocked off for cross overs. I approached an officer to ask how to get to the other side. And he said, "You're going to have to wait until the parade is over." Me: "Do you know when it's over?" Officer: "11" It being 10:30-ish I did not feel like waiting the extra minutes, so I commenced to walk alongside the blockade, attempting to find an opening some where. I walked two blocks up, found a crack, squeezed through, and crossed over while avoiding the marchers.
Three blocks further and there I was, at the party of my dear French friend G. (I met G in Paris at a subway entrance whiles I was lost. And now she is here.) The party was fun. The folks there were primarily French, but for the most part spoke English. The one French exception was Joao, the Brazilian. I cannot tell you how rare it is to meet a Brazilian man in New York. They are hiding away some where. Of course Joao and I spoke for some time. We compared notes on Brazilian thoughts. He spoke Portuguese to me, and I responded brokenly back.
When the party died down Joao, G, more friends, and I went for a bite. Somehow G was able to eat two burgers and an order of fries. I am still impressed. As you read, can you tell that it's one of those pleasant nights? The worries of silly situations were sent off somewhere to a far away summer camp where they got beaten up for not being chipper enough.
At the apt. I decided to go home. (I was staying at a friend's apt.) It was 3:30 something, but going seemed like a good idea, so I gathered my things. Before I left I decided to check my voicemail since I had missed a few calls. And what is it that I heard?
"Hi Jane. Can you please stop texting my boyfriend cuz it's making me really mad. Please -- don't be a home wrecker. Thanks."
Now this made me laugh very much, because I specifically told H that we could be friends, and that I wanted no part of his complicated complications. It's true we were texting, but I did not say anything out of line. I did tell H he was stupid, but it's true, he is stupid.
After this minuscule episode I drove home at 4 a.m. while listening to Ray Charles, "Georgia O Georgia." I arrived home in under 30 minutes. This was nice. Before sleep I silenced my phone, as I always do, interrupted dreams are no good.
When I awoke, when I saw my phone, there were eight missed calls from H's phone. When I dialed voicemail, I heard:
"Hi, I'm sooo glad I called to leave you this voicemail. I'm just like so happy that I could leave you this fucking voicemail. Want -- to -- suck -- it? Actually I'm not the idiot that left that voicemail to you. So watch your fucking tone! Watch what you say! Watch it bitch cuz I'm going to fucking come and scratch your fucking face off! I'm going to stick my pussy up...(I couldn't hear what she said at this point, but) I'm going to come and fucking give it to you. It's gone too far bitch."
To who ever reads these words, I apologize for this language. I thought persons from Connecticut were more reserved than this? Dear, if you stumble upon this, I may have entertained the thought of dating this person for a moment, but when I learned of you, I really did not want any part of it. And my goodness. No boy is worth that much energy, get yourself together.
She may have gotten upset about the text message I sent after her initial voicemail which went, "Tell your girlfriend that I will allow her to keep you." But that's what you get for provoking the cat. Haha.