sisabet: (Default)
sisabet ([personal profile] sisabet) wrote2005-01-04 09:31 am

And I Partied Like it was 1999. Or Something.

Might I just take this moment to inform the world at large that I, I am vaguely nauseous.

This is the second time in several days that I have felt this feeling of... grossness. Both times I have been able to clearly trace the origins. My nausea today results from the deadly combo of too much coffee on a way empty stomach and the fact that my cubicle feels like it is 80 degrees. I can't handle heat when I am sick. In fact, the easiest way to make me sick is to heat up my face.

Gag.

I can't do anything about being heavetastic today, because when I came in this morning I was informed that I am only one of three on my team that bothered to show up today. The day after a holiday weekend. One of three people. That could also have something to do with the way I feel.

I am not yet overwhelmed but I am quite thoroughly whelmed and perhaps by lunchtime - if this keeps up - I will have had my fill of whelm and will be headed into the insanity that is my mind.

Speaking of New Year's Eve - I got a call from Mom yesterday, she wants to pay my cable bill, I think in no small part because without internet access at home, I am not posting to my LJ as much and she needs to keep up with my life. Since I have a birthday coming up, I am taking advantage of the offer and also - I'll tell you all what I Remember from My New Year's Eve Experience.



I am not as young as I used to be. This is a fact and also, a rather obvious statement. None of us are as young as we used to be. I should be shot just for saying that, except, hello? I am a walking cliche-lover here. I mean, I asked for Cave-In fics in any fandom for my birthday.

I have proof that I am not as young, however, and unlike the gray I can Clairol over or the fact that losing five pounds is a huge effort, or the fact that I now get the appeal of men over forty -- this is proof I cannot easily ignore. This proof is called Being A Lightweight and it has hit me hard and hit me fast and it is time to 'fess up.

The evening started with me taking a post-work nap and then waking to remember that Dawn's Boyfriend (and yes - he is now in Official BF Status - this is a *big deal*) had invited me out with them. I was going to pass because I was low on fundage and he said that they would pay my way. This is a pretty sweet deal, but I still thought I might be third wheeling with them. He came back with that there were more people going out with them. He said to just come over for food (Dawn was cooking) and drinks (They have a blender and are not afraid to use it). I was still considering just not doing anything at all but curling up on the couch with Sid and watching Magnum P.I. but a coworker had kind of ambushed me earlier about my plans and when I admitted not wanting to go out she took that and ran and basically her rant ended with me being forty, alone and surrounded by cats.

And I really like cats, but I am also allergic, so I figured I better put on some make-up and try to change the future or make right what had once went wrong or something. I don't remember cause I also took this opportunity to mix myself my first dirty martini of the evening.

See, back in high school, my best friend taught me that you always feel more attractive when you are under the influence of a substance. She used to get high and call me and look in the mirror and go "I'm so pretty. I mean, wow. I am pretty." and that was pretty impressive, I must say.

I learned to run with this in college - if you start drinking while getting ready to go out - getting ready will *fly* by because at some point you look in the mirror and just admit that you are drop dead gorgeous and any more eyeliner and you will just be gilding the lily.

What follows is a haze of going over to Dawn's house and several people being there, including a guy that they quite possibly intended to fix me up with. I think. I don't know. I think I really liked this guy, too - but I also really liked the old bouncer-dude working the door at Chinoe Pub, the one who told me that I needed a man to keep me in line because I was running my mouth. I was all "Omigod! How did you know that my mouth has always been getting me in trouble!" and had a continuing conversation with him about this subject. That and his daddy passing and his brother's troubles.

To say I am a genial drunk is to put it mildly - no one can piss me off and I love the world. So we ended up (after Dawn's) at the aforementioned Kareoke Bar - where Dawn informed me (after I returned to the table after talking to the bouncer about dialysis and diabetic amputation) that she had signed me up to sing Kid Rock's Cowboy. As her explicit instructions were "Hey Dawn, sign me up to sing Delta Dawn! I'll dedicate it to YOOOOOUUU!!!" followed by me cackling and singing repeatedly "She's forty-one and her daddy still calls her ba-abaaaaay" and then pointing at Dawn, I cannot understand how this mix-up occurred.

I mention this because for the rest of the night I was distracted by attempting to remember the lyrics to "Cowboy" -- all I had was "I'm a-packing up my game/Gonna head out West/Where real women come equipped with scripts and fake breasts" and that was it. I was stuck there - I knew nothing else of the song. I also discovered how hard it is sing "where real women" while wasted. I kept singing "Wrere real reeemon" and getting confused and having to start over.

Somewhere in all this the dude I was supposed to be paying attention to apparently left. My buddy Luke stuck around and this is good as I think I was dancing at one point and he gave me many helpful pointers on my Robot ("Liz, that arm dangle is pathetic. Here, the movement comes from the elbow not the shoulder") and for that I am grateful.

I forgot that it was New Year's Eve and I was in the bathroom, liberally reapplying lipgloss ("Ah'm so pretty") when I heard people counting backwards. At first I did not know what was going on - I thought it was part of some country song I just had never heard before that the crowd really like - and then I heard the cheering and figured out that the ball had dropped. I hurried out and found Luke who was all accusing me of abandoning him and laid a sickly glossy kiss on him and then spent the next minute giggling over the gloss while simultaneaously apologizing and then we went home.

And that was it. I paid for my fun the next day - I was so sick I could not move and I vowed to never do that to my body again. As the last time I vowed that vow was over 2 years ago, I think I possibly good for at least a five year bender abstinence this time around.

Also - I had $24.85 in my pocket and I'm still not sure how that happened. I think it was money Dawn's BF was giving me to buy my drinks with and I just pocketed and took Luke's beer. Wait - twenty of it was for babysitting or something. YES - and four of it was to use to buy a beer, but then I think Luke either made the executive decision that I did not need a beer, or (more likely) he purchased it for me. I have no idea how I got the change, though.

And I never did sing "Cowboy" in public.

[identity profile] renenet.livejournal.com 2005-01-04 06:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Hi. I have a cave-in fic for you. Well, not really a fic and not really "have" in the sense of ready to hand it to you now, but I was watching my favorite Scottish mountain rescue/soap opera program over the weekend, and there was a sort of cave-in variation (well, for all practical purposes it was just like a cave-in) and I thought, "Liz!" And it just went on and on being more and more slashtastic (if one were to slash these characters, which I don't) and I thought, "you know, I should really transcribe this and describe the interactions and write it up for Liz," because it won't matter that you don't know the characters. I will summarize their particulars, but you will just read your own favorite characters into their interactions. So I will do this for you. Sometime. I promise.

Oh, do you want the happy ending or the sad ending? This story has options.

[identity profile] sisabet.livejournal.com 2005-01-04 07:00 pm (UTC)(link)
It is like a chose-your-own-adventure fantastic voyage-y thing in a CAVE.

Sad or Happy - you know, this depends often on the pairing. If I were still reading Mulder/Scully (and I know they are not slash, but bear with me) I'd say sad. I'd say I could go with happy or sad for any Angel characters unless it is Buffy involved and then I have to insist on happy.

Clark and Lex - I need happy or if sad, nothing permanant as in one of them dies. I can handle all the angst in the world and will do so quite happily as long as neither of them die. Oh - and Lex does not kill Martha. Oh and Clark does not kill Martha. Martha can die - just not at either of their hands.

I can't imagine a permanently sad Jim and Artie ending, cause they are always thinking the other died and then finding out they are not dead, they are just busy dressing up like incredibly hot gunfighters. Like ya do.

Bobby and Darien can go full tilt angst or full tilt cute or be like the show and do both -- but if either of them die then not even a robot kitten could ever heal the scar upon my soul. Now, one of them (borrowing a page from Jim and Artie and every daytime soap I have ever seen) can think the other is dead... Ohh - write that.

[identity profile] renenet.livejournal.com 2005-01-05 05:19 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, and it's a cave OF ICE!

[identity profile] lydiabell.livejournal.com 2005-01-05 08:59 am (UTC)(link)
If I were still reading Mulder/Scully (and I know they are not slash, but bear with me)

Early Mulder and Scully were a lot like a slash pairing IMO. They had a ton of chemistry. They touched and gazed meaningfully at each other a lot. ("I do not *gaze* at Scully." Shut up, Mulder.) They obviously loved each other intensely, and were the center of each other's worlds. You know that thing where two people are talking and are so connected and so focused on each other that everyone else in the room might as well not exist? Yeah, Mulder and Scully set the standard for that thing. They were the Torvill and Dean of that thing.

Yet we were supposed to believe that there was no possibility whatsoever of any kind of sexual and/or romantic connection between them. And just like slashy shows feel the need to bring on disposable girlfriends and otherwise show that their leading men really are Manly Men Who Sleep With Women And Don't Think Of Each Other That Way, Chris Carter was constantly denying that there was any possibility of romance between Mulder and Scully, and went on and on about how sex would just sully the purity of their friendship, and that was when I first started to think that CC had issues with women, but I digress.

Then you had the slashers shippers pointing out every loving moment, every loaded touch and glance, and the antislashers noromos saying, "You're crazy! I don't see any attraction there! They love each other like siblings! Does every close friendship have to be about sex with you people?"

So, yeah. I see some parallels.

[identity profile] sisabet.livejournal.com 2005-01-06 10:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh yeah - for sure there are definite parallels to slash and M/S, the most obvious being that for all intents and purposes - both a slash pairing and M/S had their most important, fundamental interactions within the subtext of the show. Looking back - it was probably this part of the relationship that I found so attractive, as I really do like to dig deeper when I am watching something - I like to extrapolate and make more. It's fun!