Saturday, June 26, 2010

The Three Amigas.

My two besties are in town this week. One from LA (BAIT). The other from wherever she is in the world (ÇA-RAGE). She has residences all over the planet. The 3 of us are rarely together in the same place at the same time. It happens once, maybe twice a year. When the stars align & we coalesce, we certainly make the most of it. To give you some insight, I’ve been getting home at 6am for the past 3 nights in a row, have suffered terrible hangovers everyday, am losing my memory at record speed, & am shaking like Kate Hepburn circa 1990. I’ve been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day, & don’t think I’ve ingested a fruit or vegetable unless it was a garnish in my cocktail. I love these two women with all of my heart. We’ve seen each other through marriage, divorce, lives gone, lives created, & most importantly: weight loss & weight gain. We’ve celebrated our accomplishments & comforted each other through heartbreak. Mostly, we laugh our asses off. I may be the one that gets paid to tell jokes, but they are the fodder for my routine. We are a trifecta of awesomeness. I could never keep this party-pace up. Taking out my recycling this morning made me want to barf: it was all empty wine & detox juice bottles, pizza boxes & cigarette packs. I woke up with a major hate-on for myself. The fact that I have the worst case of booze-blues today isn’t helpful. I’m all, “what am I doing with my life?” & “why do I treat my body so horrifically?” I’m not going to lie. I’ve had a fantastic weekend. Drinking margaritas by the pool on the roof of the Hyatt all afternoon, along with $300 bottles of wine with fine cheese & being carted around VIP styles all night. To be fair, we don’t always roll in such elegant fashion. I never mind it when it happens. I’ve had some great conversations with inspiring people, all of the while NOT flirting or going home with anyone. Even though I met some seriously sexy men over the past few days.
I needed a day to recuperate. I slept in, drank a pot of coffee, & went to my mother’s for some much needed motherly love & support- also, i am a humongous baby who still needs my mommy to make me feel better. I came home, crashed on my couch with some ice cream & my kitten, & watched a horrific rom-com of which I loved every moment & cried my eye-balls out. Here is a very upsetting fact about me: Whenever I watch a film, or read a book, or watch TV, & a man is in love with a woman, it surprises me. When the male protagonist goes to great lengths (or is even remotely nice) to the heroine- or doesn’t give up on her at the 1st sign of trouble- I can’t believe it. I feel like I can’t remember a time when a man actually wooed me. I can’t remember a time when a man really loved me- in that hungry, sexy, deep-rooted passionate way. Ça-rage & Bait think it’s all in my mind & that I’ve got some serious issues I need to work out. Why is it so difficult for me to imagine a man having actual affection for me? It feels like science-fiction that a dude might want to do something other than bone or party with me.I can’t tell if I’m just being a downer because of my hangover- but I have been asking myself that question for quite some time, now.


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