Kiss The Real World Goodbye, Sarah...

If I did one thing well this weekend, it was celebrate Sarah’s 25th birthday.

The party started off Saturday at Twist, one of the usual “scene and be seen” bars of Belltown, although not as worn-out by some of the others we’ve attended over and over in last year. The atmosphere at Twist—dark purple walls, fountains, mirrors, candles—isn’t exactly congruent to their graffiti pop-cultured sign and bathroom decorations. (Help me out here, you guys know what Chupa Chupa pops are, right?) However, Twist is what most in Seattle would refer to as “high brow.” Their Web site even names the required dress code as “Stylish Nightlife Attire.” Apparently to some women, this translates as “Slutty Nightlife Attire” because more than one woman was dressed in what I would call anything but stylish—a mini jean skirt with lace trim and last spring’s short shorts over leggings? (Come on ladies. Let’s not mix and match the two-month trends of last spring with the two-month trends of this winter. And hello, did most of you notice that it’s winter in Seattle? I know that with a mid-length shirt and jacket, I was freezing. So, I can only imagine what you feel like.)

We stayed at Twist for most of the evening, playing the “waiting for so and so” game. As most of you know, this turns into a fight for ordering another drink before everyone is ready to leave, coupled with waiting for others to finish the drink they just ordered. This always tacks on another 45 minutes to the evening. I would have been perfectly content with staying if the house vodka didn’t absolutely abhor me—Potter’s. I think I drank that out of water bottles back in junior high. If any of you know me at all, you know that tall vodka diets are pretty much the only liquor drink I’ll order when out and about in the city. And while I’ve become refined and mature in my older drinking years, cheap vodka makes a huge difference. Who would have thought that a place like Twist, which is obviously trying to cater to a certain class of people given the menu and drink prices, pours all their vodka drinks with Potter’s? That’s just tacky.

Tacky or not, I managed to suck up my disgust and down quite a few vodka diets before we all finally managed to gather the crowd and head down to Starlite. I quickly ordered another libation there, and was feeling pretty damn good by the time I decided to skip the offer for a free ride to the next bar—six blocks back down in the direction we just came from—and make the trek by myself. Del Ray, the final destination, was a blur to me. I remember meeting my friend Jenny in the back and the whirlwind as she whisked me from one group to another, introducing me to her friends. I briefly remember paying for another vodka diet, and talking with some girl about the shoe store she works at. Lord knows, I could use some new shoes.

The rest of the evening after closing time is a bit of a blur that Sarah and I managed to piece back together on Sunday afternoon. I vaguely remember stopping in a mini mart on First Avenue to buy more cigarettes. Apparently, I also thought it was a good idea to pick up one of those nasty 99 cent frosted mini pies for Sarah. I remember singing Happy Birthday to her with it. I remember the guy ahead of me who kept looking at me weird, pulled out as id of some Asian women who he informed me was his wife. I think at that time I thought it would be a good idea to grab the Sparks out of his hand, crack it open and start drinking! Sparks is Sparks man.

Finally, Doug, Sarah and I made our way to The Five Point for macaroni and cheese triangles. (You know it’s been a good night if you find us there.) We managed to finish our Sparks in the cab ride, and by the time I walked into the always eclectic and super bizarre late-night diner, I was HAM-MERD. I made a quick stop off in the bathroom. Now, while I’ll recommend The Five Point and macaroni and cheese triangles to pretty much everyone I know on this earth, I would never recommend EVER venturing into the bathroom. The last time I was there, I was greeted by three costumed strangers (men and women) who were snorting coke off the back of the toilet. This time, a fat lady was going to the bathroom before I was. While she serenaded me with every move—“Hold on, sorry, I’m almost finished, just a second, one more minute, don’t worry, I’m almost done…”—I quickly ducked into the stall when she finally exited. When I was done and opened the door again, she peeked around and said, “Did you go potty?” Holy fuck.

Thoroughly creeped out, I ventured back to the counter, where Doug and Sarah were ordering food. I sat down long enough to open the apple pie birthday cake. Doug suddenly got an ingenious idea, “Can I have your lighter?” he asked. I handed over the lighter and watched him light a big white candle he found on the counter. Having to ring in Sarah’s 25th properly, I dug a hole with my fingers in the center of the frosted apple pie and stuck the candle in it. We sang Sarah happy birthday, and she ate every damn bite of the pie.



I think it was at that point where I decided I was much too drunk for functioning in society, especially a society that includes a fat lady asking me about my potty-ing functions. I waved my goodbyes to Sarah and Doug, and walked back to my apartment by my lonesome.

I didn’t wake up on Sunday till 1:45, where I barely had enough time to scarf breakfast down at Peso’s and enjoy the end of the Seahawks game before having to get ready for Sarah’s birthday dinner at Mamounia on Capitol Hill. I can’t say this enough: If you have never been to a Moroccan restaurant, go now! It’s really hard to beat a two-hour, five-course meal where you get to sit on pillowed cushions and watch a belly dancer. Sitting and gossiping with my girlfriends, enjoying phenomenal five-star food with my hands, and laughing is pretty much the best way I could ever think to wrap up my weekend.







Happy 25th Birthday Sarah!

You are one of the most talented, intelligent, beautiful and fabulous women I know. I am so grateful to have a friend like you in my life. Here’s to celebrating our quarter century birthdays, and someday, our half century!



Currently Feeling: Like all I want to do is go home, curl up on my couch with my heat blasting, and finish The Memory Keeper’s Daughter. Since this damn book club, it’s been way to long since I’ve been this interested in a book.
Currently Anticipating: South Beach pizza dinner tonight at Vanessa’s.