May 24, 2002
"We're both massage therapists."
Thank you, Julie, for a fun night out of post-birthday shenanigans. We ate a lovely dinner at the Foundation Room (including foie gras -- my favorite, but what's with me and liver these days?), finishing just in time to hear Peter Murphy say, "Thank you," and bow in his peculiar Russian-looking get-up. We went to The Standard and were not impressed. We went to Skybar and were ushered in on phony credentials. I got my palm read. We went to the Saddle Ranch Chop House and watched people tame the mechanical bull. One girl in a one-shoulder denim jumpsuit deal kept inadvertently exposing a boob as she flailed on the back of that great metal beast. And all Julie and I could think was, "Who wears denim jumpsuits anymore?" We met lots of boys and took pictures and told little white lies. And I'm thoroughly surprised by how not drunk I am after how much I worked to make that an untruth. The world is a mysterious place. Well, Sunset is, anyway.
Sleep is overrated.
posted by Mary Forrest at 2:55 AM | Back to Monoblog