Coming to you live from the heart of Times Square, on day 3 of my New York odyssey. But we'll discuss that later. Right now I want to flash back a week, to that long feared day known as my 30th birthday.
There are days my friends displease me. There are days I wish them ill. But after last Friday, I have to say... I've got the best damn friends in the known universe.
3 months they spent plotting an event for my big three-oh. A cross-town escapade custom-tailored to my preferences, and except for one drunken boast by the ringleader back in July (which was covered up by August) they left no clue as to their plans, even RSVPing to the party I took it on myself to organise.
I left work Friday afternoon, thinking one of my ladies was having another emotional breakdown, but no: her call was merely a well-acted ruse meant to confirm my location so that four women in tiny plaid schoolgirl skirts (my own personal Kryptonite) could grab me off the street and stuff me in a van.
What am I gonna say, "No?"
I am taken to the lair of Lactose the Intolerant, and fed cheese and chocolate fondu for a time. Hot school girls, cheese, chocolate. They could be planning to kill me at this point and I wouldn't have cared. After a time, I am "rescued" from the ladies by the Gentlemen, who inform me that the planets are aligned in such a way that if I have sex tonight, I will become pregnant--thus reversing the natural order and causing me to pass a child through... well, it's not for the faint of heart, fellow y-chromosomers. And thus, for the good of mankind, I must not have sex with any woman.
Let me just point out at this moment that basing an evening around "Danny G must not have sex" is like driving a kid in a wheelchair around to really cool staircases and making sure he doesn't climb them. But anyway.
There was much drinking. There were chases, I was passed from one faction to the other about four times... and in the end there was a huge house party with cake and still more alcohol. And much, much inappropriate flirting with the schoolgirl brigade. Scandalous, even. I'm just saying, force feed me alcohol and tell me to "loosen up" at your own risk. My layers of repression are there for your protection as much as mine.
The night was wicked fun, no matter how tired I was from my hell week at work, and there was scarcely a person there it was less than a joy to see. I can't picture a better way to turn 30. Okay, one, but we needn't go into that.
There are days my friends displease me. There are days I wish them ill. But after last Friday, I have to say... I've got the best damn friends in the known universe.
3 months they spent plotting an event for my big three-oh. A cross-town escapade custom-tailored to my preferences, and except for one drunken boast by the ringleader back in July (which was covered up by August) they left no clue as to their plans, even RSVPing to the party I took it on myself to organise.
I left work Friday afternoon, thinking one of my ladies was having another emotional breakdown, but no: her call was merely a well-acted ruse meant to confirm my location so that four women in tiny plaid schoolgirl skirts (my own personal Kryptonite) could grab me off the street and stuff me in a van.
What am I gonna say, "No?"
I am taken to the lair of Lactose the Intolerant, and fed cheese and chocolate fondu for a time. Hot school girls, cheese, chocolate. They could be planning to kill me at this point and I wouldn't have cared. After a time, I am "rescued" from the ladies by the Gentlemen, who inform me that the planets are aligned in such a way that if I have sex tonight, I will become pregnant--thus reversing the natural order and causing me to pass a child through... well, it's not for the faint of heart, fellow y-chromosomers. And thus, for the good of mankind, I must not have sex with any woman.
Let me just point out at this moment that basing an evening around "Danny G must not have sex" is like driving a kid in a wheelchair around to really cool staircases and making sure he doesn't climb them. But anyway.
There was much drinking. There were chases, I was passed from one faction to the other about four times... and in the end there was a huge house party with cake and still more alcohol. And much, much inappropriate flirting with the schoolgirl brigade. Scandalous, even. I'm just saying, force feed me alcohol and tell me to "loosen up" at your own risk. My layers of repression are there for your protection as much as mine.
The night was wicked fun, no matter how tired I was from my hell week at work, and there was scarcely a person there it was less than a joy to see. I can't picture a better way to turn 30. Okay, one, but we needn't go into that.
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
jody:
Pfft. Just like a train wreck, you can't look away!
jody:
And "bringdown"? Hardly. I'm an upper.