Did I mention the inebriation

Did I mention the inebriation levels of the guests at this weekend’s party? High. I believe that the odyssey through the storm, coupled with the snowed in feeling, and heightened by the celebratory air, candlelight, and oodles of wine, made people very much feel like imbibing. My childhood friend, Heather, made it down for the weekend and immediately bonded with all my New York friends, and towards the end of the night, much of this bonding included passing a bottle of nice red wine around like a 40 in a bag and hugging each other—somewhat violently—like the new best friends they were.

And I? Was the bad friend who was completely wiped and also laden with gifts and who didn’t go out with all her best friends across the street for more drinks and girly hijinks. My drunk friends assured me they would get Heather home safe and sound and I left them all in the cold mean streets of Brooklyn. Actually, by the time we got to bed, Heather was only a half-hour behind us. I know this because a half-hour after we went to bed, I was woken by a woeful “Liz…Liiiz…Liz!” outside my window, where Heather was standing on the stoop over a pile of snow into which she had just dropped her keys.

We rescued her right away and put her properly to bed. I warned her to shut the door tight because sometimes our asshole cat, Max, likes to sneak in and knock all J’s important art and technology-related items to the floor. She assured me she would and got some water and went off to sleep.

So side story: when Willow came back from Ireland, she brought me and J the best gifties ever. These ceramic mugs from The Big Tomato.


Mine says , “Bird,” which she went to great lengths to explain is slang for “girlfriend.” J’s says, “Rocket Scientist,” and he loves this mug more than anything, except possibly his white ceramic bowl, for which he has forsaken all other bowls. We are very careful with these items. Because we have an asshole cat.

You know where this is going now, but I’ll put it here anyway. Max opened Heather’s door, surveyed the scene, and promptly walked over to her water, which was in the Rocket Scientist mug, and heaved it to the ground. This may have been revenge from the last time Heather was here and she accidentally locked Max in the hall all day. Poor Heather felt awful, but it is okay: I am certain we will hunt down Rocket Scientist 2.

Unfortunately, the stores that sell these mugs are in London. I'm excited to send the next person I know who is going to Europe on a mug mission. It will make them feel useful and also cool.

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