Do you think I are drunk?
I think I are drunk.
Krissy and I went to the Abba Singalong at the Drafthouse tonight and god damn am I having a hard time typing this. Holy shit it was fun. And nowadays I’m a cheap drunk, it would seem. 3 and 1/2 beers and a white russian. Ok, maybe not so cheap. But hey, hardy constitution runs in me blood.
We had a FUKCKKI FUCKING good time. Right. We basically just screamed and flailed the whole time. And drank Corona with lime. THen we went to Rain and as soon as I waleke walked in the door a sexy babe gestured to me to dance but I didn’t because well, I was drunk and coud couldn’t believe I had even made it to the bar.
And this right after an Al-anon meeting.
Can I ust just say that Krissy is a fucking BLAST of crazy genius good time tornado wind? I can hardly keep up with her. She was standing up the whole time screaming “HELL yeah! HELL yeah! TAKE a CHANCE, Abba!” The only thing that kept us from getting so kicked the fuck out of there was that everyone else was standing and screaming, too. Because that’s what one dues does at a Drafthouse singalong. This is a place that serves food and most of all BEERS with the movies. My Irish Girl buddy was in her element. I guess me too – after all, to quote Ferron, my lifelong hero so [deleted the next day] you if you think she’s old-school corn, “my mama was a waitress, my daddy a truck driver”. I would kneel at Ferron’s feet and do whatever she wanted. Of course that’s not hard to get me to do. TMI, right? It’s the devil’s brew in me veins.
I had to leave my car, the Kattenkrad, downtao downtown. I hated saying goodbye to her. She’s a beat up old 87 civic, hail damage, broken wipers, electrical problems, broken bumper but otherwise solid as my rock-filled head. It’s me as a car. But as I stumbled to the bus stop, marvelling at the pretty lights and still too drunk to have regrets, I figured she could have one night alone at a meter in order for me to arrive home instead of over the railing and into the Colorado River.
So I had bought an outfit for the singalong. Butt-hugging white long bell-bottomy soft pants, very tall-thick-heel shoes, a thin leopard-print shirt with lacy flare-out sleeves, a leopard print belt and leopard-print headband. If there had only been sequins, I would have TOTALLY fooled them. “OMAGOD! Check it out! ABBA actually showed UP!” I got it all for 12 bucks at the thrift store. I am so glad I’m not “above” thrift store shopping. Because it’s all I can afford.
Rocky got a goldfish as a gift from our dear neighbors, Melissa and Arthur. Fishtank, too, and cute l’il plastic plantlets. It’s a fantail, and Rocky named it Pocket. He’s very friendly – comes right up to me and does that little mwa mwa mwa at me with his tiny little mouth. So now we have a Sunny the shelter mutt, Bob the tailless cat and Pocket the fish.
At one point in the movie – I can’t remember what song it was – oh my god, it was Chiquitita! Krissy, I remembered!! And they were all singing in sweaters in front of this huge, like 2-ton fake snowman that, seriously, looked like it had been SHOT. It had all this red blood-like stuff all down its front and its “buttons” looked like shrapnel. Surreal does not describe it. WHY? WHY?? WHY??!!
Well, I guess everything’s not going to stop spiinning. I’m going to bed. I love you man.