When you sing
I went to an art auction for a friend’s gallery tonight. One of the things that I had forgotten from the party (the party!) was that I had said that I wanted to volunteer for the gallery. Fortunately, drunk Jesse and sober Jesse agreed. Of course, I ducked out of volunteering from Tuesday through Friday, but hey, who’s counting. I’ll be back tomorrow (today!) to help take down the remnants of the festivities.
“Do I have some competition, then?” Cake Woman asked. The rest of you (including Paul and Zach) are SOOOO lucky that I didn’t drunk dial you. I mean, I was sober, but at one in the morning, there’s no telling whom I will call if I can actually get service on my cell phone. Cake Woman was referring to Cupcake Woman, whose name is Andrea, but gained a terrible moniker by virtue of serving up bite-sized amazing. I introduced myself to a lot of women, but most of them were moving targets. Not so the cute lady with the delicious cupcakes! However, the cupcakes were from one of three places that she works, so maybe they don’t count in the cake race. Who knows. I had an all right time talking to her, and she has my phone number now.
She left early. I had hoped for a second round draft pick, but the rest of the women all seemed pair bonded. FINE. You go line your nest with trendy emo glasses and American Spirits in the yellow box. You do that, and take your knee-high boots with you. I won’t miss you, except when I wake up alone, which is every day.
On the way home a wave of realism swept over me. I sang a loud counterpoint to Laura Veir’s “Galaxies:”
She’ll never call! You know she’ll never call!
Singing is the only part of driving that I miss.