I live to entertain
But that doesn’t mean I lead a life intended for your entertainment. It just happens that my life blunders are entertaining to others, and I just keep on living for some twisted reason. I had lunch with my friend Michelle last week and though my weathered brain cannot remember the topic of conversation, I do recall her laughing and saying something like “Oh my God you’re life is so sad!” to which I responded, “Why do you think I have a site devoted to it?” She, of course, is not a reader of this cursed blog.
Last Thursday I was on my way to have lunch with Kristina before heading up to San Francisco for a fancy night at the W (courtesy of Abe’s fancy firm) when I walked out of my apartment without my bag, my wallet, my keys (car and house), or my cell phone. I did, however, have my laptop. The short of it was, I called my mom, her friend answered, laughed at me for being on the porch and basically refused to notify my mom of the situation because my mom was on the other line. After 40 minutes of sitting on the porch with my headset on in 85 degree weather and my burning laptop on me, I finally called my mom back and her friend finally got her off the phone. Over an hour after stepping out to the porch of doom I was finally rescued - minus the Google lunch, plus a little heat stroke. Then I sat in the car for 40 min waiting for Abe in SF.
The following is a typical conversation of my mishaps:
me: i just locked myself out of my apt
Kristina: HAHAHHA
omg
me: without my car keys
i had everything
but my purse
Kristina: I heart you grace
I really do
me: but, i have skype
so i’m trying to call my mom
from the filthy chair i’m sitting on
Kristina: LOL
me: on my porch
Kristina: god doesn’t want us to hang out
Kristina: it’s a sign
hahahaha
me: best of all, i dont know her number
Kristina: Awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
me: so i have to look it up on my cell phone bill
me: another great thing is my mom has no car
Kristina: HAHAHHA
omg
grace
me: b/c i dropped her off earlier
at her friend’s place
Kristina: ok
soooooooo
I guess you’re not going to make it here in time
HAHAH
I really heart you
this should be a sad sigh
After that I headed to the W with Abe and stayed in the room as he did his law stuff, watching Law & Order whilst trying to beckon the few SF people I know into grabbing dinner with me. I failed, resigned myself to finishing L&O, and walked my sad hungry ass to Mel’s Diner to dine on grilled cheese alone. With a cherry Diet Coke. Daniel’s text response to the sad scenario I painted: LOL! Ur life is amazing.
When I told him about the porch episode, he said, “Saaad I guess u deserve law n order and a night at the w.”
I agreed, after making tentative plans to play with the Seaslut in the evening, I finished my lonesome meal and returned to the W. I was cold, and wanted to go under the blankets, so I changed into my pajamas and started flipping through channels before settling on HBO’s “True Blood” which I hadn’t seen before. By the time Soumeya called me, I had already become content with being a complete sloth, and broke plans to go out. Like she said, “If I had a night at the W Hotel I wouldn’t tell anyone I was there and would just spend it alone.”
And for the majority of the night I did just that, save for Abe’s brief return to find me in bed with a bag of potato chips (unopened!) next to me on his pillow. I ate those for breakfast.
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Comments
Not just any dude, the only reader of our site. Besides, most of the night was spent next to a sack of potatoes. Hater.
Don’t hate her too much Kristin. I came back drunk, made some rude comment like “what the hell is this crap on the television? Give me some Gatorade”, passed out, and woke her up early. Wasn’t no glamour to that evening, I assure you.
Wait - why did we go all the way to the W to do that when that’s how you treat me any other day. Wah. Abuse! But mostly the crap on TV is baseball…
Way to go, Grace. I think you’ve mentioned 3/4 of the contributors to this blog in your post.
I promise promise PROMISE that as soon as I’m done with my first drafts of all of my essays that I’ll be able to write something about my daring and tricksy love life. I’m seeing a WASP from Connecticut, and we’re very awkward together, and the entire relationship has Sad.Sigh written all over it, but I’m swamped right now. My apologies mostly to Abe, who is the only one who really cares about me.
Denny, if you don’t come by soon to write your love stories I’m voting YES on Proposition 8 so you can your Connecticut man can’t be legally awkward.
That’s an awesome threat Grace. And to be clear Dennis: my interest in your love life is purely abstract: Grace doesn’t read gay romance novels to me in bed the way my parents used to. I miss hearing about the trials and tribulations of young homosexuals in love (and/or lust!).
Also, Kristin: I do do house calls. As Grace likes to say, “5 dolla!”
I hate my life. You hate your life. Yet you get to hate your life in bed with some dude at the W Hotel. Therefore, I hate you.