I try not to drink
It is always disappointing to find out someone does not really get you at all. But then it's exponentially, to the tenth power, fantastic when someone does. So, while I could fixate on the former, and rail about it, boring you all few to tears, I find it more agreeable to highlight the latter instead.
Last Friday evening, drained of all mental and physical energy, feeling in need of wallowing, my apartment buzzer rang. Unlike when I used to live on the east coast (and this is one of the things I actually do miss about the east coast), it was not a friend passing by the neighborhood. Nor was it an annoying peddler of cleaning products (it happens). Nor was it the police (that has happened too).
No. It was my friendly neighborhood delivery man, asking not what you could do for brown, but what brown could do for you. Let me tell you what brown can do for you- deliver to you a package with the most beautiful little collection of Grey Goose bottles you could ever imagine, compliments of one of my favorite east-coasters, B.
When I explained to my coworker-GBF last night that all of my friends seem to buy me alcohol for special occasions, I hypothesized that I am difficult to shop for. I have no poker face, so I'm really no good at expressing disdain for presents that are not thoughtful (although I realize exactly how much of an oxymoron that is, given that a present is by its very nature thoughtful, but hey, you all knew I was a jerk). What's more, it's not entirely clear what I like, to be frank. When I'm asked point blank, there are very few things that come to mind.
My words: "I think I'm difficult to shop for."
Coworker-GBF's translation: "Yes. I'd be scared to get you a present."
Anyway, B's package is by far the best alcoholic present ever. First of all, a girl could feel dignified drinking out of bottles this beautiful, even if they could be mistaken as nips to the untrained eye. Secondly, it was one of those just because presents to some extent. She's convinced there is something to celebrate, but I'm not as convinced. But, and this is the real point- it arrived at such the perfect moment. I was feeling down and drained and just weary, but then here was this incredibly thoughtful present out of the blue. Even in the week since I received the package, there have been moments that I have been feeling low again, and B's random act of kindness buoyed me right out of it. Despite my complaints to the contrary, I am extremely fortunate.
Of course, I may be in dire need of this little 12-pack after this evening. Hanging out with little kids is not my idea of a fun time. Sorry to all those women who like to coo over kids. If you ever see me behaving that way with children, chances are that the parents are good friends of mine and I am putting on one hell of a show for their viewing pleasure. I ought to get a SAG card for this sh*t.
Oh, one more thing. After watching the stupendously hilarious and fantastic Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown last night, coworker-GBF and I stopped at a local establishment. I'd like to address them here with a few choice words:
- Dear Hot Cookie,
Based on your moniker, there is a certain expectation one has that baked goods bought at your place of business will meet a certain minimum temperature. Given the quality of an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie purchased by me last night, I would like to suggest that you change your name to either Cold Cookie, or at best, Lukewarm Cookie.
Regards,
Me
To keep on a vodka theme, however, I'll also just mention that it is an excellent idea to watch Almodovar films with a slight buzz. I thought downing two Grey Goose & Tonics prior to the film would be a recipe for disaster, but instead, it heightened the absurdity all the more. Especially since there was a dude in the back row snoring so loudly that the entire theatre could hear him.
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