A Lengthy One

It has come to my attention that my mother has started reading my blog with some regularity again.

I mean, she told me she was. On a voice mail. Incidentally, voice mails from mothers are potentially the greatest comic fodder of the early twenty-first century.

But I'm not going to make fun of my mom (I'm not mom, really).

I couldn't help but picture that she had a little list of talking points ready based on recent posts (full disclosure: dramatic liberties taken):

"Hi Citymouse, dad and I are just checking in, we should talk to you sometime this week so let's try to do that okay (pause) and I've been reading your blog again I didn't for a while because I haven't had time in so long and we've still been making the switch between the old computer and the mac so it gets so confusing about what is hooked up to which and when you are here next week maybe you can show us how to use the little camera and take pictures and send them to people but anyway I was reading it and (pause) who was it that you went to Europe with again and I never knew that you were kissing different boys there you never really told us about that (pause) you told us about the pot brownies in Amsterdam but not about the boys and who was the friend that you had a weird conversation with I mean is it someone I know and do you need to talk about it because I was kind of concerned reading that and (pause) so did you say you would or wouldn't date a transsexual?"

I will be living with my parents for the next couple of weeks while I'm working on LUNCH in New York. I am actually very much looking forward to this. I hope that mom of Citymouse has a long and provocative list of talking points ready.

She is apparently reading this book right now. Which surprised me a little since I've never really thought that we had any communication issues. Nothing major at least. Sure there are times when she says something and I freak out, but usually that is Citymouse channeling her irrational and temperamental seventeen-year-old self simply because she is spending time with her parents and that is the place where seventeen-year-old self feels most comfortable emerging. Usually she goes away pretty quickly and thirty-one year old self apologizes sheepishly.

Anyway, the thing that I do worry about mom reading the blog is I know it worries her when she reads about me going out and drinking too often. No need to worry Citymouse mom. I am responsible and careful about my imbibing.

Except last night (doh! see! I knew she drank too much.... talking point #3, discuss Citymouse's drinking habits...)

But here's the deal. It's not usually how much I drink but rather how I drink that presents the problem.

And last night I did the lame sorority girl "No, I totally don't need to eat dinner so I'll be fine if I keep drinking on a totally empty stomach because I don't really want to worry about getting food anyway."

I wasn't even that girl when I was in college. I was never that kind of girl.

Last night I went to a birthday gathering for my ex-boyfriend's ex-fiancé. Try saying that three times fast.

It was a lovely time with lovely people whom I don't hang out with all that often, but would like to get to know better, and probably will this coming year.

But I had a couple of beers there. And some shrimp. And a couple of crackers. Which does not make for great alcohol absorbing potential. And I realized at some point, "Hmmm, I should eat something..." mostly because I started to hear myself say really stupid things around people I should be dealing with in a professional manner and thought "Wow. Don't stick your foot in too far."

This happened to me last weekend as well. I went to the opening of MB's play and at the cast gathering afterwards at the Arrrrghhhhonaut said many lame and insipid things to cute very-accomplished-while-still-very-young theater director who was also there. In retrospect, cringe-worthy things. MB and Miss Nora did wonderful work in the play, incidentally. They have gotten great notices, deservedly, and you should all go see it. But I made MB promise that if she ever saw me having a conversation with someone professional while drinking she would find a way to steer me very far away.

Pinky-swear.

So I left last night's gathering and yes, made my way over to Tunni's to see MB. Just because. I mean, I'm not going to be there for a good three weeks... And had another couple of drinks there. At some point a basket of steaming fries arrived at the table but most of the damage was already done. I talked MB's ear off and then some, babbling on to her about moisturizer and theater aesthetics and she was wonderfully tolerant of my verbal excess.

Must, stop, talking, sometimes.

Anyway, this morning was tough.

Must, eat, food, when, drinking.