I locked myself out at 9:30 a.m. I learned what to order next time at brunch. I drank my weight in unlimited bloodys and mimosas. I drank prosecco on a rooftop & sunned myself in a sports bra. I lost my BonChon virginity and bought an emergency sundress at Old Navy. I sang lead vocals* on “Come Clean” [you know it as the Hilary Duff ‘Rain’ song] with 6 gay boys at karaoke, which may have been the highlight of my year. (*They weren’t expecting that, but it became clear pretty quickly that they needed my estrogen.)
I got a call from my super’s son-in-law, who was around and ready to let me into my apartment. I turned down a ride from the one straight boy at karaoke because I was “too drunk to hang on” (but really “scared sh*tless to ride on a motorcycle”), but promised him that yes, we’d go rock climbing and on other adventures before he goes back into the Army.
I got into a cab, and into my apartment at 9:30 p.m. Pretty full day, I’d say.
