Memoirs of 2006: Winter

Because my favorite ex-boyfriend of all time asked so nicely, and because I have a pathological need to keep track of everything that happens in my life, I decided to recap the past year. You don't have to read. In fact, you never have to read. But you do. I don't know why...

So here goes:

January
I woke up on New Year’s Day to mimosas and a text message from the Sugar Bitch, C-dub, that she was engaged. Happiness! And the USC lost to Texas! More happiness!! I celebrated by going to see Dane Cook be not-funny at The Improv. La Ria loves him, but I think he’s ridiculous. But there’s really good spinach dip at The Improv, so we kept going back. And learned that Sunny D tastes like clown asshole. No lie. Then we watched people get kicked out of the club for having sex in the bathroom. Which I’ve never done.

That makes me sad.

There was also that super secret Louis XIV show we got into. Being in the know was all kinds of cool. And was one of the things the Evil Engineer told me he liked most about me. Gee, thanks. You like that I have a social life? Ass.

Then there was the night we subjected ourselves to Trapped in the Closet, Chapters 1-12. That’s 40 minutes of our lives we’ll never get back. Baretta does NOT rhyme with dresser!! That was followed by a card game with the Poker Nazis, who no longer play in our semi-irregular game. I learned the hard way that just because everyone loves me does not mean they’ll love each other. Especially when there are egos involved. Annoying.

Finally, the Krazy Mommy turned 28 and all was right with the world. We celebrated by gorging on fried food. Yum.

February
Before I ran off for 10 days of New York Toy Fairing, we celebrated the Krazy Daddy’s 30th birthday. There were surprises, a condom-filled piñata and more poker! The rest of the weekend was spent soaking up all the love I wouldn’t get while back east.

While I was in NYC, two people I cared for died, which sucked really badly. And the city had the worst blizzard in recent history (26.9 inches in one night). The night before which, I stumbled drunkenly through Times Square and came so very close to hooking up with a fellow photographer...but I was a good girl. I threw up my Chilean seabass instead. I'm so sexy when I try.

Valentine's Day was spent in that damn city, watching people ice skate in Rockefeller Center. That didn't really measure up to the hot sex I could have been having back home, but I returned to my hotel room to a display of chocolate-covered strawberries and rose petals strewn about my the bed. L'sigh.

Almost immediately when I got back into town, it was the boy's turn to leave, so I went to a wedding with an ex-Marine. It rained on the outdoor reception, but we still danced the night away. With tequila. Which is so very dangerous when I’m with someone out of the little black book, but once again I was a good girl. He kept pushing the issue of our brief prior relationship, but I still behaved.

(Quick aside: a few months later, the same boy would take a punching joke too far and be cast into GPG Jail, where he still lives to this day. Don't piss a GPG off. It never works out well for you.)

2 weeks later the EE and I broke up over brunch. Then I went to one of the funerals. Suckage.

Somewhere in all this hurt, I introduced the Princess to her Rockstar, and it’s been blissful living for them ever since. When one relationship ends, another begins. Who says life isn't bittersweet?

Consolation prizes for the broken heart: getting a thank you in the liner notes of a cd, and turning up in the commercials for Last Comic Standing. Which you all saw because they ran for-fucking-ever. Yes, you may have my autograph.

March
I was sick, sick, and even sicker forever. But I managed to pull it together enough to brave the freezing rain and celebrate the Princess’ birthday. Two days in a row. Because that’s just how we roll in this clique. There was kissy-facing, band boys who stalked us, and a fuzzy purple penis. Which I bought her at the Hustler store.

I give the best gifts.

She and I were also stalked by the pretty gothboy lead singer of a band. He just seemed to turn up everywhere we went, so we finally decided to catch a show. They rocked, but he was the flakiest, most self-involved person I've met in a long time, so there were no repeat performances.

UCLA lost the NCAA basketball tournament and the boy and I lost at rekindling. Things you should never do: give any sort of second chances to the exes. They’ll only continue to disappoint from then on.

It was an icky month. And fucking cold and rainy. Thus ended the "winter" in LA season.

I started blogging sometime around this point. You can really read the rest of everything in the archives. So the rest of the year will be only quickly summarized.

Enjoy.