I haven't been out partying in a while. Part of that is because I just don't have the social circle that is back home, but also, when you live in Mountain View, the city can seem far away. Alas, something kicked my social calendar into a higher gear this weekend and I sit here on not that much sleep after three nights in a row of drinks and socializing.
Thursday was a T. Tahari event at San Francisco's Macy's. My friend B uses a personal shopper, Judy, there - she's free!!! - and so we got invited to an event. Bit of a fashion show of sorts. And maybe it was the free sparkling, or maybe it was the fact that I've been on an anti-spending budget lately, but when I saw those Calvin Klein shoes... I knew I just had to have them.
Friday night we went to Otis to support Brian, an up and coming SF DJ, and then found ourselves in the Marina where B and I befriended a few boys over drinks. And not just any boys... DEA Agent boys. Four and a half hours later, after taxi rides to we're-not-sure-where (inner richmond) and pizza and lots and lots of conversation, I got home at 6 a.m.
What continues to blow me away as I recall the evening/morning, was that these guys were DEA Agents. As in, kick in the door and shout "DEA" really loud, agents. What might be more interesting, is that no, they did not actually admit to being 'on the force.' They were children's book writers, or illustrators, or copywriters. But no children's author that I know packs heat, tucks a shield in his belt, and keeps a DEA I.D card in his back pocket. Apparently, in the city of SF it becomes a controversial issue, so it's just easier 'not to talk about.'
Saturday night we joined our Canadian transplants (and Kate) for dinner in Palo Alto. I stand by that Empire Grill and Tap Room has the best carpaccio on the West Coast. Yum! Then we headed to Molly McGees for more alcohol and yup - dancing! Finally, after almost a full year of being nowhere near a dance floor you couldn't get me off. I think I was most impressed with the fact that the Provider got out there too at the end of the night. I found out today that it turns out he was probably only out there because he didn't realize he was. This morning he admitted not remembering much past dessert.
Nothing like Pho to take off the effects of a hangover. But it's not doing much for the fact that I've gotten about 12 hours of sleep in three nights. Now, I realize compared to what parents of newborns get that's probably a lot, but they have a bundle of joy to keep motivated. No one ever said killer headaches, stomach rot, and 'the spins' were motivating.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment