Green Machine

I know I said that my social skills would see the light of day now that the show is over but, as you may (hopefully!) have noticed, I spoke too soon. It's been stressful. I was exhausted but there was much to do and some big decisions looming.

Friday, in particular, was a peaks and valleys kind of TGIF. It led SEAMLESSLY into 3 margaritas at Uncle Julio's, 2 Unibroue Ephemeres at The Map Room and 1.25 Jameson & Gingers at Club Lucky with Colleague and eventually her husband. It'd been awhile since we'd had that kind of fun and even though it's not the night I'd planned, it was without a doubt the night I needed. Particularly since it landed me in bed by 11:15pm.

"Whoa Whoa. What? Why would you need to be in bed so early on a Friday??" You heard right. And with excellent, once a year reason. Today was Green Beer Day.

Green Beer Day is a holiday founded at my alma mater a good half century ago that basically provided a way for students to celebrate St. Pat's despite consistently being on Spring Break for it. The bars close at 2 then open again at 4:30 am to serve green eggs and ham, green bagels and, of course, green beer. Professors check tongues as students enter class. The streets of our little pocket of cornfield looks a little like kelly green Mardi Gras. It's a debacle. It's really really fun.

Now I'm fairly adjusted to adult life. I don't sit around pining away for glory days etc because I tend to think my glory days are tomorrow rather than yesterday. GBD is the one day a year where I encourage my own regression. And that of everyone else, for that matter. So I woke up at 7:15 am and got my green-ensemble over to Joner's green brunch with a bottle of champagne in my purse. I was giddy, as well.

Six or so sorority sisters were already over, we had green waffles, mimosas and were first in line at the Cubby Bear set to open at 10 am. 364 days a year, my being in Wrigleyville first thing on a Saturday morning after a big night out sounds absurd. What a glorious exception.

We enjoyed the open bar. I ran into my old roommates, Em's other half, more sorority sisters younger and older and a crazy assortment of other acquaintances from our days in idyllic Georgian brick courtyards. I'll spare you the details. And spare myself the headache of trying to recall them. Around 1:30pm I was spent. I dragged Joner with me to McDonald's and while the cheeseburger and DC were immensely helpful, the conversation was still pretty colorful. I offer the following exchange as an example:

Jenny: (Redacted Professor's Name)'s pants were soo tight. It's cause he loved the boys.
Me: No, I don't think so. The gays normally know what works on them. (Redacted) was in waist-to-hip ratio denial.
Random Guy at Table Next To Us: (Pitiful attempt to control combustive laughter)
Me (to Joner & Jenny): He thinks I'm a homophobe cause I call them "the gays." (To guy, I'm also now laughing) I loooove the gays.
Guy: (More laughing)
Joner to Guy: I am so glad we could amuuuse you. (Does a little curtsy on our way out)

I got in a cab and took my green tongue home directly following this exchange and have not left my house since. I have managed to: Make pasta, cry over TiVoed Oprah (a different post), watch Amy Adams & Vampire Weekend on SNL (Thanks Jonk!) and fold some laundry.

Now I get to go back to bed in the hopes that my body will accept my apologies and let me take it to Bikram in the morning to make up for 2 cheeseburgers, fries and a lot of food coloring. Namaste`bitches.