I think costumes parties are one of those things where you're damned if you do and damned if you don't. We could have gone all out, but had we done so, I promise you we would have been the only ones swathed in feather boas. And we would have looked awfully strange having dinner beforehand at the Big Four in flapper dresses.
Instead, we stood out like Republicans in black cocktail dresses and got an earful about it from Gina. The place was packed with a breathtaking collection of gorgeous people, all of whom have invested significantly in Gatsby-appropriate designer apparel. I was hoping to dig a Culture Blog out of Gina's birthday, maybe perhaps Peter Getty would emerge from his hairdo and want to discuss blogging or Stephan Jenkins might serenade the party with hits of the early 90's.
Melissa and I found two seats at the bar, knocked back Cassidy's "virgin suicides" and laughed. Having spent so many hours and guffaws and tears on those very seats, Mel and I wondered how we'd changed in the past year. Turns out, not very much at all!
Within an hour and without a drop, we were back to texting people at 1am, screaming across the bar at friends we'd made minutes before and calling strangers douchebags.
I can't tell if it's good or bad that we don't need to be trashed to be obnoxious. Maybe we just need to be together. In which case, get used to obnoxious. My friend Melissa is having a rather rough weekend, the details of which are none of your goddamn business. It's chick shit and unimportant. But what is important is that no matter what anyone else says or thinks, I know a few things to be very true. My friend is selfless and kind, generous and affectionate. She's loud and proud about everything I accomplish, she reminds me constantly how inspired she is by my sobriety and ends every email, every voicemail, every text, every car ride, every dinner and every night out with love.
I spent many Le Club nights falling into best-friendship with Melissa. And I couldn't be more sure that wasn't the booze talking. It's because she's awesome and wonderful and I suddenly feel very Springer towards anyone who says otherwise.
We took the Le Club Town Car home...yeah, there's a Town Car. It's quite the nice touch! And we crashed at my house, watching Cheers until 3 o'clock in the morning. I hope we're not the only two people in the world who fight about who gets to be Carla. I've always felt Carla wasn't appreciated enough, perhaps due to my sinking suspicion I'm my office's Carla. Oh, I'm no Diane. I'm definitely Carla, just taller and with conditioner.
Diane's too slow on the uptake.
Anyway, I wish I could tell you the swanky society shindig was overflowing with scandal. It wasn't. It was actually really fun, if for no other reason than the fact that I was back at Le Club with Le Friend till Le Dawn.
Sadly, however, I fear the next themed party invitation I receive will result in my attending a rather subdued barnyard BBQ as the ass-end of a cow costume.
At least I know I won't be alone in there...