This evening I spent a number of hours drinking booze from teacups and saucers from my china hutch, discussing important topics with my girlfriends. We went for dinner at Dadeo and decided that we should all drink at my house, since drinking at someone's house is cheaper than paying by the drink at a bar. A trip to the liquor store at Cambie & 41st (like a superstore of booze) resulted in a couple bottles of bourbon and some Brooklyn Lager, me opting for the pussy drink rather than the southern tonic.
At my house, I really couldn't see drinking beer from a teacup and felt it was imperative to use the cup, so instead fixed 3 finger gimlets for myself while the other girls drank bourbon straight up. I'm not exactly sure why, but the booze hit fast and hard, all of us discussing in detail what drinking hard liquor does to our physiological reactions. Fascinating stuff. Note to self: try not to bring up childhood existential issues because it's a bit of a downer to others to talk about how you were obsessed with death and existence when you were 8.
Last evening I met up with Rachel for a couple of drinks after a birthday dinner at Moderne Burger (it's finally open again!), and had such a good talk that it makes me wish we could drink weekly to get crap off our chests. I'm just not sure how into gin & tonics the baby is, how much booze actually makes it to the booby milk supply. The West Point Grey Legion is not even close to my favourite bar; sadly, it's kind of depressing and the only plus is $4.15 ceasars.
I really enjoy getting tipsy with my girlfriends. The vast variety of backgrounds mean a wide range of potential discussion topics, often things I wouldn't necessarily think to talk about when left to my own devices (I tend to be a bit dull). They somehow manage to make me feel a little smarter than I really am, which is always a plus.
This morning I saw a preview of "The rocker" and, through the course of the nearly 2-hour film, developed a wee bit of a crush on Teddy Geiger; he's adorable, that embryo. It's unfortunate that I felt a little dirty thinking anything about him since his mom in the film was my age. Will Arnett is surprisingly hot with long hair. It was, at times, a little hokey and contrived, but I thought it was pretty fun. Best line (that I can remember): [when watching a yellow hummer limo pull up] "It's like a school bus for assholes."
I'm listening to Twice Removed and wonder if it's really the best thing to be listening to while tipsy. It's easily one of my favourite records (as a whole) of all time, but Patrick Pentland's songs from this one tend to bring me down and promote overly reflective behaviour at this time of the night. It reminds me of a time that I can remember being really happy, yet listening to it now I know it is unlikely I'll feel so carefree and content as I was when I loved this album the first time.
Drinking booze from teacups gave me little pangs of contentedness, fleeting as they were. Perhaps I should have put that on my "things to do this summer" list because it's really important to make an event of even the most seemingly inane activities. I guess that's why I needed to put down the thing about walking barefooted on grass: no one else is going to tell you how to enjoy your life, so you'd better start taking notice of everything that makes you happy. I'm thinking of making seasonal lists to remind myself to pay attention to my life.
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