my no more moping party has come and gone. (if you have no idea what i'm talking about, please visit last friday's blog). being the good blogger that i am, here is my pictoral recap.
thanks to no service on the 1 train, my no more moping night began ten long blocks from where it was supposed to. since my cohort for the evening encountered the same train problems, i arrived ahead of her and had the pleasure of waiting alone on the ugliest street corner in new york city, otherwise known as varrick and canal. whilst waiting, i did what any normal person does. i took candid photos of myself, while pretending not to take candid photos of myself. despite the slight double chin, here's the best one:
you can't see it in this picture. but a rain drop had just smacked me on the forehead. two seconds later it poured. though i'd brought an extra pair of shoes for dancing and six different lip glosses, i left my umbrella at home. i hid the doorway of the Jackie Robinson Museum (coming this fall!). a few minutes later, my friend arrived. she didn't have an umbrella either. or the directions for how to get to my no more moping party.
20 minutes later, we arrived at my party, a little wet, a little late, and unbeknownst to me, i arrived as a man:
who you callin' mister?
i wasn't aware of it, but my no more moping party was a black tie affair. gowns and tuxedos abounded. for a second i felt a wee bit out of place (though no one else's nails matched their shoes, booyah!). then i spotted the champagne. did you know that three glasses of champagne consumed in rapid succession makes for instant happy? no? here's evidence:
thus ensued a wedding. blah blah blah. love me forever? probably. you? sure why not. good. done.
then ensued what everyone had really come for -- cocktail hour on the rooftop. the sun had begun to set. new jersey sparkled across the water. behind us the empire state building glowed blue and yellow. and this, this people, is the photograph i captured:
beautiful, no? let's call this picture: one final glass of champagne and hello, vodka drinks!
now, i don't like to discuss drinking on my blog since, in theory, a young person will one day read my posts. so, non-existent young people who aren't reading this blog anyway, cover your ears. at my no more moping party, i consumed the world's dirtiest martini. the bartender described it as "fish tank" dirty. which is about as disgusting as it sounds. see below my response:
that's right. there in the upper right hand corner? it was cosmo time!
also, it was sushi time. might i congratulate whoever invented the wedding sushi bar? might i also congratulate american culture for so readily embracing this delectable cuisine. ten years ago, sushi was an exotic treat. now we're tossing it back as hors devours.
it got cold on that lovely rooftop so we no more mopers were called inside for dinner. first, there was another cosmo. and ew, though i'd forgotten it until right now, a shot of tequila. out of a wine glass. (who the heck's idea was that?) which looks like this:
do you see my eye starting to do that weird thing? do you see my face get longer? do you see my liver shriveling up?
there were boring men at my table, but there were really fun women. there was dancing. there was filet mignon. there were more cosmos:
a few hours later there was a corrie who wasn't at all mopey, but who was very, very -- ears still covered chitlins? -- inebriateday. which is pig latin for drunk:
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: just because the alcohol is free, does not mean you need to consume all of it.
well, at least my party was a success. who's got space for moping, when a hangover headache threatens to make your head explode?
ta-dah and happy monday!