Muse. Ramble. Rant. Repeat



Enough Makeup to Satisfy Drag Queens

It’s Monday morning and I still haven’t completely recovered from Saturday night. In the days of yore this would have meant I hadn’t stopped partying until last night some time; nowadays this means that I’m getting old and can’t handle going out like I used to. I know it’s hard to take someone seriously when they complain about getting old when they are only 24; but my ability to go without sleep is dwindling at an alarming rate every year. I used to go to work without sleeping – usually still in the clothing I had worn the night before but with a sweater thrown on top of it. Now I can barley function the next day and refuse to leave the house. I’m not sure what is happening to my youth but nothing ages me faster than going out.

The entire night was a success. I had planned to go out dancing and we did. After a mediocre dinner (I can say that because I cooked it) we consumed three bottles of wine and a little vodka. We then applied enough makeup to satisfy drag queens (I can say that because I wore the most) and slipped on our heels, which I won’t refer to as dancing shoes because clearly I ended up walking part of the way home barefoot.

The bar we went to was a little hipster joint that plays awesome music if you can contend with all of egotistical mess going on around you (please don’t get me started on hipsters). Dancing has always held a special place in my heart – I’m not particularly good at it, but dancing my drunk off is perhaps one of my favorite activities. Being able to sing at the top of your lungs while jerking your body about to a rhythm is fantastical. Anyone who says they don’t like to dance has clearly never been drunk enough.

At the end of the night, KF and I left the bar and began our slow walk up the hill (Lady, had left earlier – her tolerance for drunken hipsters is lower than mine). Halifax, for better or for worse, was chosen because of its harbour and ability to defend itself from attackers. Three hundred years later all this means is that most of the bars are on the waterfront at the bottom of a big hill and most of the late night restaurants are up this giant hill. In order for me to get pizza I need to climb said hill, in heels, while drunk. You’d be surprised at the cardiovascular workout one gets at such a late hour. KF and I made it up halfway before we found a ledge (which I swear wasn’t a gutter), sat down and took a break. We then supplied colour commentary to the passerbys.

(“NO! Don’t go home with him! He’s wearing a popped collar!”)

At this point my night gets a little foggy, but I ended up in our car with a big slice and listening to CJ lecture me on how horrible the cabs in this city are.

CJ, always the knight in shining armor, will be my designated driver when we go downtown. He’s done it for years for fear of my safety; the one time I told him not to worry about picking me up; I ended up getting five girls kicked out of a cab on the sketchiest corner in Halifax. (Look, don’t try to mess with me cabbies, I know this city like the back of my hand and I’m the cheapest person you’ll ever meet, drunk or not, you are not going to rip me off). Since then, he’s been weary of me going downtown and so will come and rescue me (and whatever girlfriends I have with me). He gets a lot of benefit from this arrangement – he has been met every single time with praise for picking us up and has even had songs composed about his awesomeness. Albeit, drunken songs that had no tune, but songs! Is your boyfriend not getting along with your friends? This is a surefire way to make them love him. And if your boyfriend won’t pick you up… well perhaps you should listen to your friends…

Anyways, I woke up Sunday morning, fully clothed, makeup smeared across my face and a big slice with three bites out of it on my bedside table. After changing and trying to wash my face (I seriously had a lot of makeup on, it didn’t finish coming off until this morning in the shower) I crawled back into bed. There I stayed for the entire day. This morning I had trouble getting up.

Thankfully, my office has a great coffee machine because I’m going to need the entire pot today.

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Comments

  1. * Lindsay says:

    This made me want to fly home immediately. OH the things I miss! CJ driving us home and me carrying on a dramatic monologue about his virtues! You putting pounds of makeup on my face and then me sweating it all off dancing but still thinking DAMN I look GOOD! Your (never ever) mediocre dinners and the wine wine wine.

    I will be coming home at Christmas. I will be never leaving again. I love you.

    | Reply Posted 7 years, 8 months ago
    • * mmacc says:

      Please, please, please come home. That was the one main problem with Saturday night – as much fun as I had it would have been more fun if you had been there. It was even discussed in detail about how much you were missed :(

      And trust me, it was a mediocre dinner – but the wine made up for it!

      | Reply Posted 7 years, 8 months ago


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