It's Blitz!:The Fun/Less Sad Parts That I Remember, And Those I Was Told About The Next Day
On March 14, 2019-
I never slept. I meant to, but I just read web comics or something? There's a few good ones I really like:
Miss Abbott and The Doctor
Gourmet Hound
The Real You
Novae
Honey Lemon
All Haven Academy
and
A Common Teacher
They have replaced the hole in my heart that Shojo manga left behind. I am, and forever will be, a hopeless romantic. Only unrealistic depictions of a perfect unconditional unfaltering love will do. Love that rests within the DNA of the partnership, so fundamental there could never have been another option for either of them. Drawn together by a deep understanding and acceptance of each other. Breath-taking. Magical.
I'm never getting into another relationship.
I think I was obsessively reading through Honey Lemon that night/morning. I tried to nap. Prior to my new prescription I was pretty borderline manic. Days here and there of little to no sleep. I'm sleeping more now, Seroquel knocks me out pretty quickly if I allow it. Just a gentle fade into unconsciousness- slipping away from the fear that drugging myself will make me easier to kill. Eventually it's supposed to get rid of that concern, but I guess just sleeping more is a good start. I'm a little more energetic, too. In case you were wondering. I know that's not the point of this post.
My Fitbit tracks my sleep...so I know I never quite made it. Even if I closed my eyes for close to an hour. There was never a point of rest.
At 8AM I went to Discount Tire to get my replacement tire finally put on. Then I ceded to breakfast at my parents before embarking. It keeps the oversight to a minimum. It's a little ridiculous to be in so constant communication with them, but my Hispanic Millennial friends have helicopter parents too, so I don't feel as weird about it. Even though I suspect my mother is a little worse than the others. It's the uncontrolled paranoia. I did recently find it difficult to use an automatic sliding door, though. Perhaps though I am 30 the urge to intervene is not unwarranted. Breakfast was over at 9:44 AM, which is when I established I had an hour to nap before my schedules departure at 11 AM. And this is where the nap did not truly occur...but I finished the last of my loading the car with the refrigerated snacks, nail polish case and a small carry-on full of alcohol. Absolutely jam-packed. It would not be the only alcohol contribution of the night.
I swung through Starbucks and onto the freeway. Traffic was uneventful. Mostly smooth sailing. Peculiarly, the worst of the traffic was leaving Houston not entering Austin. Considering SXSWhatever was in full swing I thought Austin would be the problem.
I checked in. This has been described.
I swung by Issa and Bren's apartment to pick up her clothes and alcohol contributions. I think that brought the total bottle count to 12? I got a little paranoid about Bren's writing partner trying to avoid me. Perhaps a lot paranoid. If only because there was absolutely no justification for this speculation.
Then I picked up Maeve from campus. This has also been covered in previous episodes. It was nice. It was probably the most one-on-one time we've ever had. She's funny and charming so getting to awkwardly chatter with her is always a fantastic experience. I'm quite pleased that we're friends now, although I guess I haven't told you about anything prior to this friendship so you don't have context for anything else. And you're not getting that now.
She made a vegan raspberry pie. Elle is our vegan friend, and we're a very self-conscious bunch, so we make every effort to create an inclusive menu. This meant a lot of hummus and Oreos. The Oreos would come back to haunt me...but in the beginning seemed like an easy and delicious way to keep things incidentally vegan. I purchase in excess (a common side-effect of being bi-polar/irresponsible) so we had MegaStuf, Coconut, Lemon and Mint. Red pepper and spicy pepper hummus. Pita chips, of course.
The pie was the only hand-crafted snack and was greatly prized for this novelty. Maeve also presented us with a lovely, large, framed needle-point. "Ovaries before brovaries." It will be the center piece of all future Galentine's engagements. She'd also made this amazing Morrissey inspired needle-point for Elle, but I don't remember what that one said. I could probably check Instagram, but I'm not that dedicated to painting a complete picture for you.
We grabbed Issa after a brief discussion of the merits of driving off 5 minutes before she got out of work. We agreed, instead, to wait until she was walking up to the car, perhaps just behind it, and then drive off. It was the right thing to do. It is not what we did, but after waiting for a half hour in the concrete expanse in front of her office no one would have faulted us. No One.
We drove over to Casulo, and Elle fortuitously arrived just as we were walking in.
The hotel was beautiful. Aesthetically inconsistent, but beautiful. The bar was very modern. White marshmallow puff chairs, clean curved, bottles behind glass with small tacky price tags sitting in front. Wire and waterscapes. Asian inspired prints of women doing rather unimpressive things with the grace of an ink brush stroke lined the walls. Between them scrolls of characters I won't presume to know the origin extended out on thick frames. There was a clear impression that though management had something in mind there was not enough maintenance allotted to really warrant $200 a night. The whole building was delicately in shambles. I like imperfection because I see it as a charming reflection of my soul, but if I were a more self-assured person I would probably have asked to be credited back some of the money. It wouldn't be enough to call off the night, though, so why bother?
The room had a fantastic view of a misplaced toilet. Or perhaps an interesting art piece that sat by the pool? A modern commentary of the excess we were participating in. The toilet dared us to confront the frivolity of our use of time. I have to hand it to management for challenging its guests in this way. Duchamp would have been proud. And I do select all party venues in an effort to make Duchamp proud.
A variation of my signature drink was sloppily doled out. Raspberry lemonade, peach schnapps, strawberry vodka and cheap champagne. A potent recipe that tastes absolutely nothing like alcohol. Most of my drinks are made to be deceptive. I live my life to be deceptive.
The Smores Martinis were slightly less capable of hiding their alcohol content, but still seemed to be a hit. Two kinds of creme de cocoa shaken with vanilla vodka over ice. Not too sweet. Nothing to hide the flavor of alcohol. Plastic wine glasses were rimmed with marshmallow fluff and crumbled graham crackers which perfectly offset the complete lack of a mixer. The next day Issa and I would decide a bit of cream would have evened out the cocktail. Hind-sight is far less inebriated.
Small talk and a room exchange.
The new Japanese bath was filled and activated. The inconsistent decor continued. The porcelain bath was surrounded by slippery faux wooden panels. It was larger than the other one, but the frame took up more of the room than the bath itself. There was a writing desk. There is always a writing desk. As though we would send out correspondence regarding our stay to loved ones across the continent. In a few days time they would know of our blind-drunk confessions of love to another woman. Several other women. There was a phone on the desk and by the toilet. Perhaps Tom Cruise from the 80's came here often. Or was it the 90's? When does one demand to see the money? Let's split the difference with late 80's to early 90's. God help us if toilet phones were still a thing in the aughts. There was much chatter about the merit of being provided a land-line. Truly this establishment understood what Millennials desired most- the ability to converse with a stranger. We're all quite tired of the convenient anonymity of all the apps we're inundated with. Smart phones be damned, the greatest convenience our lives were lacking was corded phones mounted by the toilet.
The carafe of Millennial pink was finished as Ryan and Esme arrived. Everyone changed into their swimsuits and a pink bathbomb was thrown into the hot tub. Lime and regular coconut rum were thrown into coconut water with Parrot Bay as we changed into our karaoke clothes. Issa had these fantastic pleather lace-up leg warmers. Maeve wore a gorgeously respectable floral maxi. I was perhaps a little too drunk to remember everyone else's sartorial choices. My own outfit consisted of silver scale booty shorts Issa got me for Christmas and a tank top from the first sex shop Issa and I explored together when we first moved to Austin.
There was far too little time spent in the hot tub between all the moving and general late start. The flow of the party must continue, so in a rush we threw on outfits and make-up in the bathroom and all the mirrors. Esme was the cleverest of us all and brought an illuminated mirror for private beautifying. And her winged liner was gorgeous as always. Everyone had great shoes. I threw on my chunky gray velvet boots and stumbled out to the Lyft ordered at the start of the blur of make-up application, drink in hand. Tossed into a trash can at the door of the hotel. Who knows if it made it in. We plopped into the SUV like a drunk youth soccer team.
And this is where I started to lose time.
In a blink we were in the karaoke room.
There's a note in Mindy Kaling's first book I never finished about the right way to karaoke, that I really took to heart and probably mentioned before. The right way to karaoke is to play DJ for the party one song at a time. I like to make sure to pull people in as well. It's easier sometimes for people to not sing alone, and I never mind tripping over words and singing out of range. Karaoke is not time to show off with crazy long songs that no one knows (I did do that, but I don't remember so it barely counts.) Esme and Elle are actually really good singers, and they have some songs they kill every time- but I think overall we have a tacit agreement not to monopolize the microphone with ballads. I don't blame Esme for crooning out Creep every time, though. She does a very good job. I hate her a little for it. The video below is my general (awful) sentiment.
Elle does Janelle Monae when we are at a better venue...but the place we normally go, because it's BYOB and BYOSnax has gradually reduced the English songs they have and increased the Korean songs. Which is completely fair, I have seen private karaoke rooms in a lot of the dramas I used to watch and the webtoons translated from Korean (some listed above) that I now obsessively read.
We might have to switch to a different more expensive karaoke option.
I hate to waste party time, so I hit the stage as soon as we got into the room with "Just Dance." More drinks were mixed and had. Wine opened. Wine mixed with rum. Issa sand Iggy Pop ("Lust for Life") Later, black out drunk, I sang "Complicated" at her to troll. Esme, did "Creep" beautifully and with feeling. And that's kind of when I kept moving but stopped being conscious. Elle and I did "Helena" which is also a fave. I sang out of range and hurt my vocal chords. I apparently did things I thought I only thought about doing and didn't remember: "No Scrubs" "Complicated" and "Kissing You"- which is the showy ballad that I mentioned earlier. It was startling to find the next morning that they even had "Kissing You" because it seems like a relatively obscure song from the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack. Issa said I did well and soulfully, but I don't think any of us were reliable narrators at that point.
I did become slightly belligerent. Issa wouldn't take a Taki with vegan queso on it without inspecting it. She kept trying to make me drink water. We stumbled through "Fancy" and maybe "Umbrella"? That I remember like, on the edge of the fog, so I will need to verify at some point. I made Ryan do "Dance to This" because I didn't know "Bloom" but I wanted to do Troye Sivan with her because I think she's just as adorable and she's the only person I know who knows him. I made Maeve do a couple of songs I don't think were even really right for her, but I didn't want her to feel like she shouldn't participate. I think we all did "Wannabe" too. Drew, Elle's boyfriend, did "Jizz In My Pants". We wrecked the room. Chip crumbs, water from the melted ice bag, and general spills. I don't know if the Oreo binge started there on when we returned to the hotel. I can't remember the last song, either. Usually, I try to make it a communal performance.
Back to an SUV. Shouting and wild gestures. Out to the room.
I'm told, Esme finally got to try out the hot tub. I tried to mix drinks. More spills. Drink making responsibilities were stripped from me.
Ran into the hot tub in my party clothes. Who knows what we talked about? Probably someone less drunk.
At some point I actually changed into my swimsuit again. Back into the hot tub, I guess? Maybe more drinks? Definitely Oreos in the black out, whether at the start in the karaoke room or at the tail end in the hotel room is uncertain. We may never know.
Maeve and Elle had work appointments the next day, so they eventually left. Esme fell asleep for a while on the beautiful king bed. Issa recommended more water. I knocked it over in protest. The hot-tub was unplugged with me still in it. Issa gave up on me and joined Ryan and Esme in bed.
And this is how I was able to realize my goal at the beginning of the night of passing out in the hot tub.
I can't imagine a better night or a cooler place to pass out.
The Oreos were not digested and did not stay in my body. I still can't think of them without getting queasy. A small loss.
I never slept. I meant to, but I just read web comics or something? There's a few good ones I really like:
Miss Abbott and The Doctor
Gourmet Hound
The Real You
Novae
Honey Lemon
All Haven Academy
and
A Common Teacher
They have replaced the hole in my heart that Shojo manga left behind. I am, and forever will be, a hopeless romantic. Only unrealistic depictions of a perfect unconditional unfaltering love will do. Love that rests within the DNA of the partnership, so fundamental there could never have been another option for either of them. Drawn together by a deep understanding and acceptance of each other. Breath-taking. Magical.
I'm never getting into another relationship.
I think I was obsessively reading through Honey Lemon that night/morning. I tried to nap. Prior to my new prescription I was pretty borderline manic. Days here and there of little to no sleep. I'm sleeping more now, Seroquel knocks me out pretty quickly if I allow it. Just a gentle fade into unconsciousness- slipping away from the fear that drugging myself will make me easier to kill. Eventually it's supposed to get rid of that concern, but I guess just sleeping more is a good start. I'm a little more energetic, too. In case you were wondering. I know that's not the point of this post.
My Fitbit tracks my sleep...so I know I never quite made it. Even if I closed my eyes for close to an hour. There was never a point of rest.
At 8AM I went to Discount Tire to get my replacement tire finally put on. Then I ceded to breakfast at my parents before embarking. It keeps the oversight to a minimum. It's a little ridiculous to be in so constant communication with them, but my Hispanic Millennial friends have helicopter parents too, so I don't feel as weird about it. Even though I suspect my mother is a little worse than the others. It's the uncontrolled paranoia. I did recently find it difficult to use an automatic sliding door, though. Perhaps though I am 30 the urge to intervene is not unwarranted. Breakfast was over at 9:44 AM, which is when I established I had an hour to nap before my schedules departure at 11 AM. And this is where the nap did not truly occur...but I finished the last of my loading the car with the refrigerated snacks, nail polish case and a small carry-on full of alcohol. Absolutely jam-packed. It would not be the only alcohol contribution of the night.
I swung through Starbucks and onto the freeway. Traffic was uneventful. Mostly smooth sailing. Peculiarly, the worst of the traffic was leaving Houston not entering Austin. Considering SXSWhatever was in full swing I thought Austin would be the problem.
I checked in. This has been described.
I swung by Issa and Bren's apartment to pick up her clothes and alcohol contributions. I think that brought the total bottle count to 12? I got a little paranoid about Bren's writing partner trying to avoid me. Perhaps a lot paranoid. If only because there was absolutely no justification for this speculation.
Then I picked up Maeve from campus. This has also been covered in previous episodes. It was nice. It was probably the most one-on-one time we've ever had. She's funny and charming so getting to awkwardly chatter with her is always a fantastic experience. I'm quite pleased that we're friends now, although I guess I haven't told you about anything prior to this friendship so you don't have context for anything else. And you're not getting that now.
She made a vegan raspberry pie. Elle is our vegan friend, and we're a very self-conscious bunch, so we make every effort to create an inclusive menu. This meant a lot of hummus and Oreos. The Oreos would come back to haunt me...but in the beginning seemed like an easy and delicious way to keep things incidentally vegan. I purchase in excess (a common side-effect of being bi-polar/irresponsible) so we had MegaStuf, Coconut, Lemon and Mint. Red pepper and spicy pepper hummus. Pita chips, of course.
The pie was the only hand-crafted snack and was greatly prized for this novelty. Maeve also presented us with a lovely, large, framed needle-point. "Ovaries before brovaries." It will be the center piece of all future Galentine's engagements. She'd also made this amazing Morrissey inspired needle-point for Elle, but I don't remember what that one said. I could probably check Instagram, but I'm not that dedicated to painting a complete picture for you.
We grabbed Issa after a brief discussion of the merits of driving off 5 minutes before she got out of work. We agreed, instead, to wait until she was walking up to the car, perhaps just behind it, and then drive off. It was the right thing to do. It is not what we did, but after waiting for a half hour in the concrete expanse in front of her office no one would have faulted us. No One.
We drove over to Casulo, and Elle fortuitously arrived just as we were walking in.
The hotel was beautiful. Aesthetically inconsistent, but beautiful. The bar was very modern. White marshmallow puff chairs, clean curved, bottles behind glass with small tacky price tags sitting in front. Wire and waterscapes. Asian inspired prints of women doing rather unimpressive things with the grace of an ink brush stroke lined the walls. Between them scrolls of characters I won't presume to know the origin extended out on thick frames. There was a clear impression that though management had something in mind there was not enough maintenance allotted to really warrant $200 a night. The whole building was delicately in shambles. I like imperfection because I see it as a charming reflection of my soul, but if I were a more self-assured person I would probably have asked to be credited back some of the money. It wouldn't be enough to call off the night, though, so why bother?
The room had a fantastic view of a misplaced toilet. Or perhaps an interesting art piece that sat by the pool? A modern commentary of the excess we were participating in. The toilet dared us to confront the frivolity of our use of time. I have to hand it to management for challenging its guests in this way. Duchamp would have been proud. And I do select all party venues in an effort to make Duchamp proud.
A variation of my signature drink was sloppily doled out. Raspberry lemonade, peach schnapps, strawberry vodka and cheap champagne. A potent recipe that tastes absolutely nothing like alcohol. Most of my drinks are made to be deceptive. I live my life to be deceptive.
The Smores Martinis were slightly less capable of hiding their alcohol content, but still seemed to be a hit. Two kinds of creme de cocoa shaken with vanilla vodka over ice. Not too sweet. Nothing to hide the flavor of alcohol. Plastic wine glasses were rimmed with marshmallow fluff and crumbled graham crackers which perfectly offset the complete lack of a mixer. The next day Issa and I would decide a bit of cream would have evened out the cocktail. Hind-sight is far less inebriated.
Small talk and a room exchange.
The new Japanese bath was filled and activated. The inconsistent decor continued. The porcelain bath was surrounded by slippery faux wooden panels. It was larger than the other one, but the frame took up more of the room than the bath itself. There was a writing desk. There is always a writing desk. As though we would send out correspondence regarding our stay to loved ones across the continent. In a few days time they would know of our blind-drunk confessions of love to another woman. Several other women. There was a phone on the desk and by the toilet. Perhaps Tom Cruise from the 80's came here often. Or was it the 90's? When does one demand to see the money? Let's split the difference with late 80's to early 90's. God help us if toilet phones were still a thing in the aughts. There was much chatter about the merit of being provided a land-line. Truly this establishment understood what Millennials desired most- the ability to converse with a stranger. We're all quite tired of the convenient anonymity of all the apps we're inundated with. Smart phones be damned, the greatest convenience our lives were lacking was corded phones mounted by the toilet.
The carafe of Millennial pink was finished as Ryan and Esme arrived. Everyone changed into their swimsuits and a pink bathbomb was thrown into the hot tub. Lime and regular coconut rum were thrown into coconut water with Parrot Bay as we changed into our karaoke clothes. Issa had these fantastic pleather lace-up leg warmers. Maeve wore a gorgeously respectable floral maxi. I was perhaps a little too drunk to remember everyone else's sartorial choices. My own outfit consisted of silver scale booty shorts Issa got me for Christmas and a tank top from the first sex shop Issa and I explored together when we first moved to Austin.
There was far too little time spent in the hot tub between all the moving and general late start. The flow of the party must continue, so in a rush we threw on outfits and make-up in the bathroom and all the mirrors. Esme was the cleverest of us all and brought an illuminated mirror for private beautifying. And her winged liner was gorgeous as always. Everyone had great shoes. I threw on my chunky gray velvet boots and stumbled out to the Lyft ordered at the start of the blur of make-up application, drink in hand. Tossed into a trash can at the door of the hotel. Who knows if it made it in. We plopped into the SUV like a drunk youth soccer team.
And this is where I started to lose time.
In a blink we were in the karaoke room.
There's a note in Mindy Kaling's first book I never finished about the right way to karaoke, that I really took to heart and probably mentioned before. The right way to karaoke is to play DJ for the party one song at a time. I like to make sure to pull people in as well. It's easier sometimes for people to not sing alone, and I never mind tripping over words and singing out of range. Karaoke is not time to show off with crazy long songs that no one knows (I did do that, but I don't remember so it barely counts.) Esme and Elle are actually really good singers, and they have some songs they kill every time- but I think overall we have a tacit agreement not to monopolize the microphone with ballads. I don't blame Esme for crooning out Creep every time, though. She does a very good job. I hate her a little for it. The video below is my general (awful) sentiment.
Elle does Janelle Monae when we are at a better venue...but the place we normally go, because it's BYOB and BYOSnax has gradually reduced the English songs they have and increased the Korean songs. Which is completely fair, I have seen private karaoke rooms in a lot of the dramas I used to watch and the webtoons translated from Korean (some listed above) that I now obsessively read.
We might have to switch to a different more expensive karaoke option.
I hate to waste party time, so I hit the stage as soon as we got into the room with "Just Dance." More drinks were mixed and had. Wine opened. Wine mixed with rum. Issa sand Iggy Pop ("Lust for Life") Later, black out drunk, I sang "Complicated" at her to troll. Esme, did "Creep" beautifully and with feeling. And that's kind of when I kept moving but stopped being conscious. Elle and I did "Helena" which is also a fave. I sang out of range and hurt my vocal chords. I apparently did things I thought I only thought about doing and didn't remember: "No Scrubs" "Complicated" and "Kissing You"- which is the showy ballad that I mentioned earlier. It was startling to find the next morning that they even had "Kissing You" because it seems like a relatively obscure song from the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack. Issa said I did well and soulfully, but I don't think any of us were reliable narrators at that point.
I did become slightly belligerent. Issa wouldn't take a Taki with vegan queso on it without inspecting it. She kept trying to make me drink water. We stumbled through "Fancy" and maybe "Umbrella"? That I remember like, on the edge of the fog, so I will need to verify at some point. I made Ryan do "Dance to This" because I didn't know "Bloom" but I wanted to do Troye Sivan with her because I think she's just as adorable and she's the only person I know who knows him. I made Maeve do a couple of songs I don't think were even really right for her, but I didn't want her to feel like she shouldn't participate. I think we all did "Wannabe" too. Drew, Elle's boyfriend, did "Jizz In My Pants". We wrecked the room. Chip crumbs, water from the melted ice bag, and general spills. I don't know if the Oreo binge started there on when we returned to the hotel. I can't remember the last song, either. Usually, I try to make it a communal performance.
Back to an SUV. Shouting and wild gestures. Out to the room.
I'm told, Esme finally got to try out the hot tub. I tried to mix drinks. More spills. Drink making responsibilities were stripped from me.
Ran into the hot tub in my party clothes. Who knows what we talked about? Probably someone less drunk.
At some point I actually changed into my swimsuit again. Back into the hot tub, I guess? Maybe more drinks? Definitely Oreos in the black out, whether at the start in the karaoke room or at the tail end in the hotel room is uncertain. We may never know.
Maeve and Elle had work appointments the next day, so they eventually left. Esme fell asleep for a while on the beautiful king bed. Issa recommended more water. I knocked it over in protest. The hot-tub was unplugged with me still in it. Issa gave up on me and joined Ryan and Esme in bed.
And this is how I was able to realize my goal at the beginning of the night of passing out in the hot tub.
I can't imagine a better night or a cooler place to pass out.
The Oreos were not digested and did not stay in my body. I still can't think of them without getting queasy. A small loss.
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