O, so much to write about yesterday! Too damn bad, baby, because I'm not done with Sunday. I'm a completest, don't you know. Any moment of my life not written about is a moment that didn't happen.

So, after getting home from seeing Geoffrey, Michael had called. I rang him back, and we sort of decided to meet for drinks after my show. I didn't really want to go out, I mean, it was Sunday, there was work the next day, and besides, we saw each other Friday night. But hey, he doesn't have the job where he comes to NY a bunch of times a year anymore, so who knows when I'll get to see him again?

But first was the show itself, which kicked butt. The audience was really great, really noisy, much better than Saturday night's audience of zombies. Leslie got a laugh on her first line, which is only one word, and after that, I was pretty certain that I wouldn't have to pray for just one laugh like I did the night before.

Of course, there's a point in the play where the laughs stop, and they never come back as easily as they do at the beginning of the play, but the very end, when I spit in the soup that I'm feeding him, got a roar that built until the blackout, and then we got a round. It was great, especially since the spit was my improv in rehearsal, it wasn't in the script, but it makes the ending so much stronger, it puts a great button on it. Good for me!

After I was done, Michael was in the lobby, so I changed and we went out. We went to my bar again, but it was closed for a private party, so we wandered along 9th Ave, looking for something else, ending up at Film Center, where I ordered a screwdriver and he got a gimlet.

"I think I got the wrong drink. I can never remember if I like gibsons or gimlets."
"Gibson is the one with the onion."
"Yeah, that's the one."
"You can remember because it's spelled with an "O" for "onion"."
"And a gimlet has an "L" for lime."
"That's right."
"I thought it had an "M" for Michael."
"There's your error right there."

He got a gibson after choking down half of the wrong drink, but they were out of onions, so he got, well, a big glass of vodka. He was later surprised, after having his second one, how loaded he got. It was a big glass of liquor! I had four screwdrivers and wasn't any more loaded, but that was because each glass is half juice. Half juice, I say!

Anyway, we sat and drank and talked for like four and a half hours, and it was really great. I don't date, you see, so the idea of listening to someone's entire life story over drinks never got boring for me, I was really enthralled. And could, in fact, pass a test on Michael's life.

We ended up sitting all pretzeled together, talking directly into each other's ears, but without really touching, in a position that it would be difficult to get into without being drunk, like how I can solve those little sliding number puzzles in about two minutes after a couple of drinks, but my dyslexia kicks in when I'm straight.

It's really nice staying out late, not caring it's a work night, drinking with a cute guy, telling secrets, even if it isn't really a date. I must remember to do this once every five years or so.

We finally left something after 3a, walking over to the van, which wasn't running anymore, as I knew it wouldn't be. Michael started talking about getting something to eat, and I stood there, not getting into a cab, until he asked me along. I have no pride.

We walked in a wide circle for an hour, ending up right back where we started, about an hour later. There was no food. City that never sleeps, my ass. Well, this was because the coffee shop on 9th that I know perfectly well is open all night was closed for remodeling, which I did not know perfectly well. The McDonald's on Broadway is 24, but Michael turned up his nose at it, and our only other choice was getting a sandwich from a deli and eating it while walking down the street.

So I went home.

I wasn't so much hung over as still a little tipsy when I woke up, four hours after I went to bed, but I was plenty hung over by the time I got to work. I felt very wild telling everyone how loaded I had gotten the night before, including one of the vendors who called. O, it wasn't any vendor, it was a friend, and when she asked if my wavery voice meant that I was sick, I said, "O no, I was just out drinking until 4.30a last night!"

Michael came round my office in the afternoon, because I had birthday presents for him. They popped into my head like Athena (I know she popped out, don't be so literal) and I love giving presents, so I ran out and bought them and almost wouldn't let him open them, because it wasn't actually his birthday, but I decided not to be so hard-line about it.

He was all hung-over and apologetic over staying out so late and drinking so much the night before, while I was all in a good mood because I had had a swell time and didn't mind the hangover.

This is, I think, the main difference between us.

Today's horoscope:
Today, you will have times when you are super serious and times when you want to kick up your heels and crack a joke. Express your zany impulses when they won't hurt your image.

One year ago today:
She will get an idea in her head and worry it like a bone until every shred of marrow is gone and we are all exhausted at the process.

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Last Updated Sun 28 October 14:16:09 2001