I should probably warn you that I started this post with no idea what I'd write, so you can expect it to be even less cohesive than normal. Maybe if you did some drugs or didn't sleep for a couple of days before you read this, it would actually make sense.
Tonight is the first waking time I've had to myself since Thursday. Needless to say, this has been an extremely social weekend. Which doesn't mean it was a bad weekend, it's just that I'm a girl who needs hours and hours to process my experiences and when I don't get that, my synapses can't always be trusted to perform properly.
I went out on Friday and Saturday this weekend. I can't really remember the last time I went out both nights of a weekend. I met Ondine and company out at The Foxhead on Friday night. That was where I heard Saddam Hussein was hanged. It was strange to watch the coverage on the bar television set, it was almost like we were watching replays of sports highlights.
The nice thing about going out in Iowa City over the holidays, is seeing all the the expatriates who are back in town. Since I had to drive to Dubuque the next morning to pick up the girls, I was going to go home after all my friends left see a show at the Picador, but right around the same time, a bunch of other people I hadn't seen for a while showed up and I stayed for another hour. The not so nice thing about Iowa City is that whenever I go out, I'm reminded just how tiny this town is, by running into unwanted ghosts. If I weren't quite so socially retarded, these encounters (or hauntings, as I like to call them) wouldn't have to be so awkward. But, I guess getting spooked is a good way to know when it's time to go home.
I went to the early show at the Picador on Saturday night. It was a benefit, so there were tons of bands from all different genres playing. It was packed, especially since it was winter break and most of the students were out of town. In between bands, they had a guy dressed in a loin cloth diaper thing and a turban who ate light bulbs and lifted bar stools with hooks hanging from his earlobes. Lord knows, I'm a girl who appreciates good spectacle, but I get squeamish about watching that kind of thing and had to go downstairs for most of his performance. I can't even watch Cirque du Soleil because the contortionists can raise the bile from within me.
The odd thing about going out this weekend was the lack of alcohol I consumed. I had a migraine on Friday that I kept at bay by taking my meds, and I didn't want to induce it's ire again by imbibing any spirits. Usually, I don't think there's any reason to be sober at the Picador, (or what was once Gabes) but for some reason, I had a great time on Saturday and I even stayed until one a.m.
Last night, I stayed home with the girls and a few of their friends. All of Stinky's friends cancelled out at the last minute, so I drove her to some other girl's house to watch movies until 11:15. (so she could watch the ball drop on the East Coast)
Coadster had two friends spend the night and one who went home at 1 a.m. I found out later, that the girl who left early, had some champagne with her sister before she showed up. It's weird, because I haven't had to worry about the girls' friends drinking before this. Even if she had been sober, Champagne Girl would have annoyed me. She kept whining about some "bitch" who stole her man. I told her that if her man was worth having, no one could steal him from her. She didn't really know how to respond to that, so she just said, "You don't understand. She was my best friend before that..." Coadster stood behind her and gave me the sign to let it go and after she left, Coadster told me that Champagne Girl cheated on the boy first, and the "bitch" supposedly stole Champagne Girl's boyfriend after they were broken-up. I wisely went into Coadster's room and watched a movie after that. I've resolved not to discuss empowerment issues in relationships with half-drunk fourteen year old girls ever again in 2007.