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Sun, December 5

When Doves Cry (again!)

No, I didn't go to another Prince concert, but I'm reusing a previous blog entry title, because I went to a beautiful, wonderful bar/lounge for Erica's birthday last night called, "The Dove" (on Thompson between Bleeker and West 3rd).

As J described it, its "a Victoria's Secret, if Victoria's Secret owned a bar." Deep burgundy wall papering, an old fashioned oil painting of a dove (of course), comfy Victorian looking couches, porcelain tea cups with cheese crackers, and every drink is served on a lacy doily.

How ladylike!

Even though we got there at ten, there was a surprisingly good crowd of people there already. We lucked out and got to sit in a cozy nook by the window (decorated with mistletoe and the like), which was up on a platform, making us feel like very important ladies at tea.

Except, we were drinking martinis. I had an amazing martini called the "Honey Dove", which consisted of cognac, honey, and soy milk. On second thought, it did taste like tea! They had other concoctions too, like the "Flying Grasshopper" which was green and tasted exactly like mint chip chocolate ice cream, and a "Violette" which had a suspicious description that included words like "floral potion" and "perfume". Maybe next time..

After two Honey Doves, I felt a bit queasy from the milk/alcohol combo (ha! My first drink at Columbia U. was a white Russian. Still Marisa's (my college roomate) favorite).

I recommend what my roomate Katherine had, which was the Tart Cherry martini or something like that. Sweet but not overpowering.

At one point in the evening, one of Erica's friends was on top of one of our seats by the window, looking for her jacket under the enormous pile of coats that had accumulated. I didn't realize this, so I sat right down on the seat, where my left ass cheek was greeted by an extremely pointy STILETTO HEEL.

And for the rest of the night, Becs kept slapping my butt "because it's so slappable!", but each time she forgot that I had just sat on a stiletto and ow....that really hurt.

Friday night, J and I ended up not seeing "Bad Education", because he was late getting to my apartment and by the time we got to "Petrosino" on Houston and waited there, we realized no restaurant except a fast food one, would be fast enough to make us in time for a 10:15 movie. I ended up canceling our tickets (lets hope Moviefone reimburses me!) and we had a nice, relaxing dinner there. What I really liked about the place was that they gave each person their own bowl of tomato sauce (warm) to dip the table bread into, instead of the usual butter or oil thing. And the dessert! We had a nutella ricotta cheesecake that was beyond words.

Zach tried to help us watch one of his thousands of DVD's, on my computer, when we got home, but J was snoring on my bed by the time I downloaded "21 Grams." Another night.

The next day, Saturday, we woke up and went to brunch at "General Store" where we scored free dessert from the nice maitre d'/ waiter, who felt bad for "rushing us out of our table." We didn't even feel rushed, but who could say no to warm chocolate brownie with homemade ice cream? Then I worked for hours at DTUT on preparing for the show and securing my credit cards while I'm away, while he worked on a brief.

Damn. I'm starving right now. Ate dinner at five because I was famished after African Dance and walking all over Soho looking for Chuck Taylor's in 2-tone green and pink. Anybody seen those around? Not one Urban Outfitters has any left.

And I'm freaking out over what to pack for Mexico. Dreams of wearing one skirt and one top, with no makeup and no beauty products are slowly being dashed as I find myself making lists of what to buy before I go:

-a new clear mascara (since my current one looks a bit muddy from mixing with other makeup
-a new regular mascara (in case I decide to not take the au natural route and want to glam it up at night)
-more underwear (even though I wear the same five favorite pairs and wash them on a daily basis, I find the need to have a great supply "just in case"
-Mini biolage conditioner...in case my half-filled conditioner runs out.

This is just a tiny sampling of my real list of "things to buy."

Of the moment concerns/crisis:
-Should I get my highlights redone? They've grown out since September, but then again Sophie, my coworked says that my hair "always looks like it has roots" (nice). If I don't ge them done then I'm looking at like, five more weeks of brown hair growing in by the time I get back. J says who cares, as probably will you, but my mom and good friends say never to go on vacation looking like shit cuz you'll hate all the pictures.
-Should I bring my Prescriptives concealer that I've had for almost a year but seems to still have stuff in it, but who knows--the tube could just be filled with air air, and if I bring that, and it runs out--gasp! How will I hide a blemish?
-I just bought a NEW one...Should I bring that one, even though J warned me that "all your makeup will go bad because its so hot there" (which I think is just a ploy so that I don't bring any)
-Which hair product to bring? Hm...the current one I am using, or a special leave in conditioner so I can leave my real conditioner at home?

DO YOU SEEEEE HOW INSANE I AM?

I remember before leaving for sleepaway camp, I would fill entire notebooks with lists...Wouldn't you know it, I wouldn't even have to refer to the lists as I was packing because I had already memorized the entire page and could refer to it by mental image alone! (Thankfully, this power of mine worked when it came to final exams too, so that by the time I'd made pages of notes in preparation for a final, I'd hardly have to refer to them again because the act of writing them and thinking about them was enough to sear a photographic image of that page in my head. This memory capability only lasts for a week or so, which explains why I remember nothing from my A.P. United States history class.)

So why do I bother?

I think I make lists when I am super stressed. Which I am because...My show is tomorrow night! I am so excited, but really hope everyone leaves the show thinking, "That was a good way to spend a Monday night." Its hard though, most of my friends don't live in this neighborhood and its a Monday, blah blah.

Dad is coming to the show, which I am so psyched about. I wish mom would come to, but "Ashley can't stay up past ten, she's cranky all the next day." And god forbid we find a babysitter.

For someone so involved in every other aspect of my life ("What'd you eat for dinner? Are you alone in your apartment? How's J? Is he still the best? etc. etc."), I would think she'd want to make an effort to see what I have been working so hard on for the past few months...

Posted by lexzog at December 5, 2004 10:49 PM

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