22 good to be true

I totally settled with that title. But it's late and I've been meaning to write for a day and a half now. I came really close this morning, but being a wee bit hungover I opted for spooning with my dog on the couch for a couple hours instead.

I have enjoyed a very good past couple of days. I'll work backwards, like Memento.

At work tonight, I didn't have to do anything. So I read and tried not to look to hungover.

This afternoon, I gave myself a grace period in which I generally lazed about the house, accomplished nothing and felt superb about it.

This morning, I woke up in time to see my roommate off to work and promptly fell back asleep on the couch with my dog (who is soft and smells better than ever after getting all her hair buzzcut off recently).

Last night, I had a dance party at a neighborhood bar with friends. Much credit is due to alcohol, but the dancing was really absurd, completely out of control and oh so much fun. Birthdays are a nice excuse for friends to remind each other constantly why and how much they love one another.

Yesterday evening, after skipping out on class after an hour, my mother took me bowling. We had had a big day, and while the bowling was fun, we were a bit cranky.

Yesterday afternoon, I took my mom to see "The Farnsworth Invention" after a crisis of Broadway faith in which we almost saw "August: Osage County." Being that my mom is the Aaron Sorkin fan that she is, I came to my senses and we got TKTS for the history-laden (but still dramatic and funny) play. We both enjoyed the hell out of ourselves with the play alone, but as we were leaving we were in for a humongous surprise that I'll probably always associate with this birthday. Aaron Sorkin was giving a Q&A session with some high schoolers, and being that we are slow ass theater leavers, my mom and I got to hide out and listen. Afterwards, emboldened by my birthday adventure seekingness, I went up to Sorkin and said a bunch of words I don't even remember. My heart was beating and I was visibly shakey, but unlike my mother I was able to come within 10 feet of the guy. Honestly, he was really cool and the whole experience smacked of good luck. Afterwards, between our frustrated realizations of "what we should have said," mom and I came to the conclusion that we just couldn't believe that we didn't ask him to dinner.

Yesterday at lunch, we went to John's Pizzeria and had a killer lunch. I sorted through the dozens of fabric swatches that I had collected for my fashion design class (a hobbie I might continue even when I don't go into making clothes). In Wednesdays past, I'd really always missed my mom the most during lunches by myself. So free of spectacle as it is, lunch might have been the nicest part of my day.

Yesterday morning, I woke up much earlier than my BAC the night before could have predicted. Mom and I got Starbucks and confirmed that no, my debit card hadn't been stolen.

Two nights ago, I met up with my roommates to celebrate the countdown to CJBday (I just made that up now... keep it in mind for next year). We had had a couple of birthday shots and by 1am I was absolutely convinced that I was getting a tattoo. (The bar was on St. Marks and it would have been entirely possible.) Adding to the debauchery, the bartender was a bit of a "cute guy" (as they say) and I was having fun flirting with him. Now, there's no element of surprise to this post because I don't even want to try to build suspense to satisfy the UTTER bewilderment I felt when my mom showed up at the bar.

I had absolutely no idea that she was coming or what was going on. All I knew was that that night was the most pleasantly surprised I have ever felt (it continued when we cabbed home and I discovered presents and a cake which my roommate had set up).

So, to end a long descriptive post I will say this: Good birthday. Things are looking good. Goodnight.