Party Girl

In which Lena’s immune system fights back by putting her in a coma.

This has been one of those weeks that, on paper, sounds quite glamourous, which gives one a sneaking suspicion that the lives of the rich and famous aren’t as glamourous as they sound, either. Which is, let’s face it, what they have been trying to tell us all along. Like JLo in her tragic anthem, Jenny from the Block. Do you believe them now? Me neither.

So, Week O’ Glamour began with a party in a very hip condo with very hip people, as my fabulous friend Crystal (who runs a hip restaurant) prepared to hiply move to Hawaii. I was somehow unprepared for the level of hipness with which I met, as I’d thrown on a pair of old jeans and I think whatever top I’d worn to church. Nevertheless, I talked with very delightful and interesting people, and enjoyed the sushi.

Monday and Tuesday was an ad shoot. Monday’s was in the glamourous setting of a bar. Horrifyingly, someone dropped the camera, or the camera overbalanced…anyway, somehow the camera ended up on the floor with a big crash. Fixable damage, but it lessened the glamour while increasing the drama for a few minutes.

Wednesday was TKD testing night. Not glamourous, definitely not. But cool! Men smashing through blocks of wood with terrifying yells. Of this I shall write more later.

Thursday was climbing night. Of this I have written.

Friday was an art show. Back to the glamour! M. and I visited our talented (and glamourous!) friend R, who had some wonderful paintings and encaustics (she had to remind me of the word) on display. And I also developed a temporary crush on another artist whose photographs and paintings we loved.

Saturday I was nursing an incipient cold, and dipping dried fruits in chocolate for that evening, while IT SNOWED (in SEPTEMBER!) outside. The RS broadcast was great, followed by a chocolate buffet. M. said something about finding a space where we could enjoy our guilty feast.
“Guilt? I feel no guilt,” I said.
“How did you become so liberated?
“Many years of practice.”

Then another party, which was not necessarily glamourous, partially because it was in the home of some straight men (I deduce their sexuality by the decorations on their walls, which were non-existent, and by the size of their TV, which was considerable), but which was entertaining. We played with a Wii, and danced, and drank (water) until…well, not the wee hours. More like 11 PM actually. But I was tired, and M. and I had done our party duty, and I went home, to go to bed around 1 and wake up the next day at, disorientingly, noon.

I told B. I’d slept for eleven hours. She said, “that’s not something you tell a mother of two.”

She made fun of me for apparently being the kind of person who goes to parties every night and sleeps until noon. Am I that person? I think the sleeping’s got more to do with the cold. The partying? You know, I’m just a girl like everyone else. I like to just hang out, y’know, with my friends, just chill. I totally went out without lipstick the other day*. I’m like, so low maintenance. Everyone who knows me can’t believe just how normal and down-to-earth I am…just like all you ordinary people…

*Lie. You know I’d never leave the house without lipstick.