Monday, February 02, 2004
Happy Druzday
So it was my birthday Sunday and I rang in the big 2-3 with a bang, or at least a stiff drink. Saturday night was the Spanish Town Mardi Gras Ball, basically a kickoff to Mardi Gras season for the neighborhood I live in, Spanish Town. The neighborhood bird is the flamingo and, fittingly, the neighborhood color is pink. As most of you know, I am all over theme parties and this was no exception. I walked in to the ball with a light pink blazer over a hot-pink collared shirt, bright green tie, a pink, sparkly bolo hat, transparent pink sunglasses and pink, floral sneakers. I was a fucking pimp.
It was brilliant. I then proceeded to drink several glasses of a mixture of tequila and triple sec (and nothing else) and was very confused when a cake was brought to me at midnight. I think I actually asked, "What is this for." When I realized I swayed and stumbled in appreciation.
So I spent my birthday battling a hangover and drowning my sorrows in barbeque and football.
Speaking of theme parties, Joe, of blogs-linked-to-Heath's-brilliant-blog fame, has reminded me that January 31 marked the one year anniversary of the famed Eurotrash Party, at the late, great 632 Radcliffe house (the house Ben, Max and I lived in/destroyed our senior year of college for anyone who is confused). Everyone was decked out that night and Club Eurotrash was the place to be. I think my friend, Stan, put it best when he asked the next day, "Heath, dude, what did you put in that sangria, acid?"
If I remember right (ha ha) I blacked out by about 8:30 p.m., right about the time the first guest arrived. Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on who you talk to) I did not pass out and still had time to play the part of Uwe (that's oo-vay), the gay german clubber, and participate in the Club Eurotrash dance which Ben, Max and I spent a week perfecting and mere minutes drunkenly fucking up.
The next day I came into Ben's room and apologized profusely for missing the Eurotrash Dance. "No, Heath, you were there. You kind of fucked up, but you did it."
It truly was one of the greatest, drunkest nights I can vaguely remember and I encourage everyone to go to Joe's site and check out the link to the Eurotrash photo album. And I can explain the Smirnoff Ice, really...
It was brilliant. I then proceeded to drink several glasses of a mixture of tequila and triple sec (and nothing else) and was very confused when a cake was brought to me at midnight. I think I actually asked, "What is this for." When I realized I swayed and stumbled in appreciation.
So I spent my birthday battling a hangover and drowning my sorrows in barbeque and football.
Speaking of theme parties, Joe, of blogs-linked-to-Heath's-brilliant-blog fame, has reminded me that January 31 marked the one year anniversary of the famed Eurotrash Party, at the late, great 632 Radcliffe house (the house Ben, Max and I lived in/destroyed our senior year of college for anyone who is confused). Everyone was decked out that night and Club Eurotrash was the place to be. I think my friend, Stan, put it best when he asked the next day, "Heath, dude, what did you put in that sangria, acid?"
If I remember right (ha ha) I blacked out by about 8:30 p.m., right about the time the first guest arrived. Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on who you talk to) I did not pass out and still had time to play the part of Uwe (that's oo-vay), the gay german clubber, and participate in the Club Eurotrash dance which Ben, Max and I spent a week perfecting and mere minutes drunkenly fucking up.
The next day I came into Ben's room and apologized profusely for missing the Eurotrash Dance. "No, Heath, you were there. You kind of fucked up, but you did it."
It truly was one of the greatest, drunkest nights I can vaguely remember and I encourage everyone to go to Joe's site and check out the link to the Eurotrash photo album. And I can explain the Smirnoff Ice, really...
