Party!

Here are some pictures from my friend Hannah's 30th birthday party. These are really blurry. I used to think the 'in motion' style of blurry pictures looked cool. Now I just think I need a better camera.

And here's a video (13 MB) of my friend Neda dancing with John, a nice guy we met at the party. Note how comfortable Neda is shaking her booty with a complete stranger. Note how awkward I sound merely speaking to a stranger. God knows why I was giggling like a developmentally-challenged 4th grader. That guy must have thought I was a complete weirdo. I would have thought I was.

But what a fun party!

I spoke with 71-year-old woman for a little while. She was really interesting. She wore thick, black-rimmed intellectual hipster glasses and talked my ear off about all sorts of things. She had been a Sociology professor at Penn. One of the nicest things she said was when she grabbed Emily (Hannah's roommate) to tell her that she and her boyfriend Vinny (Paul's good friend) were "a magnificent couple".

Emily and her Turkish friend Zeynep launched the belly-dancing portion of the evening. I tried and failed miserably. I swear, people were looking at me like, "Girl, take off the belly dancing belt and go sit down."

There had been promises for a wide variety of entertainment, but only the belly dancing materialized. Emily plays the accordion, and she had planned on playing a few tunes, but for some reason she never got around to it.

She'd also organized a This is Your Life retrospective puppet show for Hannah. I was going to be one of the puppets. It was loosely scripted and the puppeteers were supposed to improvise. But after several drinks and a few puffs of weed I was extraordinarily grateful she seemed to forget about the whole idea.

The next morning I felt like I had been run over by a truck. I must be getting really old. I just can't bounce back like I used to. I woke up at noon, ate some breakfast, read a little, fell asleep until 6:00pm, woke up in a bitch of a mood, grabbed a greasy dinner with Paul at a local bar, objected to just about every word that came out of his mouth, came home, cried a little, wrote in bed while Paul watched the horrid Oscar's ceremony downstairs, and then fell asleep, only to wake up around 3:00am, wide awake and completely rejuvenated.

Somehow I just don't think I'm meant to live this way. But I think it's worth it. I must be having fun. Just look at me!



Why, oh why, must I continually embarass myself?