new year's recap
Jan. 3rd, 2004 10:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alikiI promise photos of my big yellow poofy 1950's polka-dotted dress. B and I went to a New Year's party at his ex-girlfriend's house. Strange, but true. When he first mentioned her, he described her as a beautiful girl in the sophisticated sense. And then proceeded to say that he wasn't even attracted to her beauty when he first met her--- but rather her quick wit, academic intelligence coupled with a wild artistic side. They're both in architecture together. *GREAT* Unintentionally made me feel exactly 3 inches tall.
She'd told him that it was a theme party-- and we had to come in outfits from the 1920's to 1950's. B got an old hat, pipe and shoes from the '50's that used to belong to his granddad/dad and I hunted down this cute beige dress with black polka dots and a big poodle-like skirt at Macy's for $30, along with black mary janes and pearl jewelry. I tied my hair in a high pony-tail, donned bright red lipstick and marched off to this party. 30 people were at this party. All but one of the girls (in a light brown flapper '20's dress) wore their little black cocktail dress.
I felt absolutely silly standing at her door. Ex-girlfriend gave me a big smile, shook my hand (I'd never met her before), and she said I had a lovely dress. Very 1950-ish. I said yes, I thought that was the idea. (She, the hostess, donned a black cardigan with a biased-edge black knee-length skirt). She grinned, and said nothing more. I hate ex-girlfriends. I think she had good intentions to sincerely throw a theme party, but I think on some level, you *know* whether it's going to fly with your friends. You talk. You discuss. Your friends say, girl, there's no way I'm coming in a ridiculous poofy polka-dotted dress. I'm wearing my black dress. You know what kind of friends you have (the crazy kinds who still dress up in crazy outfits on Halloween-- and other days of the year, or the kind you are NYC-wannabe-posh-upper-class snoots). So I think she knew nobody at her party was going to dress up. Perhaps she should have given me a courtesy call.
As the designated driver, I didn't have a lick of alcohol. I took a sip of champagne at midnight, but didn't finish it. I don't like it when people call themselves DD and resign themselves to stop drinking an hour before they have to drive. So I sat at the party, not knowing a soul minus B (B knew a couple architects from school), without alcohol, in a big foofy yellow dress with black polka dots on it. B got totally smashed and we spent an hour lost in Newark and Jersey City somewhere, driving aimlessly down badly-lit streets. I had no clue where I was going, and B ended up directing me to New York City. When I finally saw the city skyline, I said: "Wait a second-- where do you think home is?" and he said "New York City, of course!"
Gah. So I turned the car around quickly and just drove in the opposite direction. I finally pulled into our driveway at 4.45 in the morning, completely exhausted and sober, wearing a ridiculous tafetta-chiffon yellow dress. B said "wait, this isn't New York City!" as I dragged him in the front door. (Miraculously, he woke up with almost no hangover, and thanked me profusely for putting up with his drunk ass).
That was my new year's.
She'd told him that it was a theme party-- and we had to come in outfits from the 1920's to 1950's. B got an old hat, pipe and shoes from the '50's that used to belong to his granddad/dad and I hunted down this cute beige dress with black polka dots and a big poodle-like skirt at Macy's for $30, along with black mary janes and pearl jewelry. I tied my hair in a high pony-tail, donned bright red lipstick and marched off to this party. 30 people were at this party. All but one of the girls (in a light brown flapper '20's dress) wore their little black cocktail dress.
I felt absolutely silly standing at her door. Ex-girlfriend gave me a big smile, shook my hand (I'd never met her before), and she said I had a lovely dress. Very 1950-ish. I said yes, I thought that was the idea. (She, the hostess, donned a black cardigan with a biased-edge black knee-length skirt). She grinned, and said nothing more. I hate ex-girlfriends. I think she had good intentions to sincerely throw a theme party, but I think on some level, you *know* whether it's going to fly with your friends. You talk. You discuss. Your friends say, girl, there's no way I'm coming in a ridiculous poofy polka-dotted dress. I'm wearing my black dress. You know what kind of friends you have (the crazy kinds who still dress up in crazy outfits on Halloween-- and other days of the year, or the kind you are NYC-wannabe-posh-upper-class snoots). So I think she knew nobody at her party was going to dress up. Perhaps she should have given me a courtesy call.
As the designated driver, I didn't have a lick of alcohol. I took a sip of champagne at midnight, but didn't finish it. I don't like it when people call themselves DD and resign themselves to stop drinking an hour before they have to drive. So I sat at the party, not knowing a soul minus B (B knew a couple architects from school), without alcohol, in a big foofy yellow dress with black polka dots on it. B got totally smashed and we spent an hour lost in Newark and Jersey City somewhere, driving aimlessly down badly-lit streets. I had no clue where I was going, and B ended up directing me to New York City. When I finally saw the city skyline, I said: "Wait a second-- where do you think home is?" and he said "New York City, of course!"
Gah. So I turned the car around quickly and just drove in the opposite direction. I finally pulled into our driveway at 4.45 in the morning, completely exhausted and sober, wearing a ridiculous tafetta-chiffon yellow dress. B said "wait, this isn't New York City!" as I dragged him in the front door. (Miraculously, he woke up with almost no hangover, and thanked me profusely for putting up with his drunk ass).
That was my new year's.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 09:41 am (UTC)this is my comment
Date: 2004-01-03 11:22 am (UTC)ex-people = worse
no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 02:22 pm (UTC)