Birthday weekend

Well, to be honest, it started out with a fight between me and my boyfriend. It was my first husband who noticed that I pick fights when I'm very horny, and I had been all week. So, on Friday night, I picked a fight, went home and cried myself to sleep. Out of horniness.

The next morning, I was still upset, and thought of cancelling thedinner with my boyfriend, my best old friend and his fiance, the coolest couple on staten island, and my pal from 23rd Mandalation. But somehow, I got myself together by telling myself I would have fun shopping for a special vintage outfit for the dinner. Telling myself I would find a pencil skirt in zebra stripes got me in a party mood.

Unfortunately, there wasn't one at the store...I ended up with a rock'n'roll princess outfit consisting of a black lace shawl, a halter top with a glittery skull on it, and a floor length taffeta skirt. I called my boyfriend to pick me up at the Everything Goes store, and went home where he took care of that little problem I mentioned before.

The next thing we knew, it was time to go into the city--I forgot my mascara, bought some at the Duane Reade, after standing in a long line and watching two Japanese ladies put away candy they wanted to buy, but were not going to because of the line. They should've kept it, because, basically, we were out the door before they were.

The boyfriend bought me a gold bracelet from a street vendor, and then we headed over to L'Annam, a Vietnamese restaurant. I had only been to their old location on 27th St., which I think I mostly enjoyed because their menu was in such broken English: besides, it featured Grandma Special Recipe Stew, which I think was made of grandmas. The new place had no a/c, the waitrons kept bringing us the wrong food, and finally picked up the tip before we left the table.

All of my friends, new and old, internet and bar buds, got along great. No, one had met each other before. My best friend's fiancee rolfed my arm at the table. We talked about Wonder Woman and her evil Panzer villain, Charles's upcoming play reading (it's his play being read, not him reading someone else's), Opus Dei, my friend Paranoidave who I left behind in Pittsburgh. Paranoidave was a paranoid schizophrenic who was afraid of black helicopters, George H.W. Bush, white vans and yellow trucks. It was Charles who said it sounded like Paranoid Lucky Charms "black helicopters, white vans, yellow trucks...mmmm...psychotically delicious!"

Afterward we went for egg creams, and finally beer at Otto's Shrunken Head, a tiki bar--and basically my favorite bar in the city. They were having the "midnight hop" The Rockin' 69's a rockabilly band was playing. We were all a little afraid because 1) the bass player had no ass, and was humping his upright bass 2) there were about 15 women there dressed as Betty Page. I had to ask one of them why. The answer made me cringe: "It's the look of the scene I guess." You know the scene has gone down hill when even the artsy kids can't think for themselves.

My gifts were an ameri-bear, Holy Blood Holy Grail, books by Lloyd Alexander, and an air conditioner.

Sunday night, the boyfriend and I drank, and hung out with sailors (it's fleet week) and people playing "Journey" on the juke at the Side Street Saloon.

Monday the boyfriend picked me up that air conditioner I mentioned earlier, and had dinner with his brother and his family.

There was so much more to the weekend. It was so great, I want to get a tattoo to remember it all by.