less than 24 hours later, i was part of a mass email sent out by jcrew. she lamented her lack of friends, and how she was sending out her own party invite. she invited us to the anchor bar on wednesday night. later, jcrew looked at me sternly over her glasses. like a principal, or a dominatrix, and said: "you know, christa. this is the first year that you didn't send out an email inviting people to my birthday."
"but! i asked you what you wanted to do! i thought we were still talking about it!" i responded.
she shook her head.
"i don't think so," she said.
i felt awful. just like she wanted me to. feeling awful was the least i could do. it was like a birthday gift.
my landlord was going to hit the party early, while the grill was seething. i had him order me an olive burger. have it waiting for me when i got there. i haven't eaten meat in so long that if a deer ran past the window right now i'd beg it for one venisony lick of its underbelly.
when we got to the bar, a half-dozen surly goths and/or mimes were in a semi circle in front of a large-screen television watching the movie "hot fuzz." cigarettes poised near their smeared white makeup and exaggerated eye makeup.
"it's hard to get used to the cigarettes," chuck mused. "this place is so dirty, people are rude, everyone's smoking. i feel like we're in france."
jcrew did not yet seem moved by the birthday spirit. i mean, by this time last year, it looked something like this:
whereas this year, it was a much tamer this:
then things ramped up:
i just wanted a water. but chuck came back with this:
it included a free cherry cheese cake shot for jcrew. i put my finger in it. bubbles tested it. then jcrew finished it off. i conceded to drink one free foamy beer that had fallen on the floor.
and then it was time to go home.