I was having my hair colored before going to a cool art show. The show was all LGBT women and that means two great things coming together. Like sandwich cookies, gay ladies and awesome visual art meld into one delicious bite. Why color my hair? Because silly, there would be cute girls there. Cute girls who knew me when I was part of a couple. Changing my hair is a definite sign that I’m single. After snipping off twenty years of long, flowing locks, I couldn’t show up without a cute, new do.
I scooped up my friends and we rolled out in my truck despite the rainy weather. The show was, of course, amazing.
Beauty, Devastation, Love and Politics.
I love lesbian art. Where else can a burlesque Snow White hold it’s own beside an abstract portrait of Maya Angelou. A robot with a functioning security camera in the center of her forehead was pulled together through time to protect the memory of a beloved matriarch.
I had a great time.
We were on our way to have yuppie tacos over on the trendy part of town and had to stop for gas. Everything was going smoothly until…my truck’s battery died. It was cool because a truckload of girls, gay or not, will be able to get car help, even in the middle of the night. So within. 20 minutes we were back on the road. Thanks, Mr.!
Needless to say, yuppie tacos were now out of the question.
Me and the crew…lol, ended up deciding to grab some drinks, talk about the show and hang out before calling it a night. Sounds like a plan? Well…let me tell you how this plan unfolded. I know I’m a light weight so cognac was out of the question for me. I had a glass of wine at the art show and a cerveza at my friend’s house. I guess I assumed that one jump should get me through the night.
I needed another boost…this time it wasn’t so easy. lol. It was a couple of hours later before the calvary could come save us.
Now I don’t know how many of you have ever seen an evening play out where every person represents the drinks they’ve had. I was that happy, chick that dances on tables. One of my friends was ‘torn up’ on Cognac and Red Bull. I didn’t even know that was a cocktail. My other homie is going through a divorce and had been drinking beer since, like, six…which at the time was about six hours earlier. So…I was forced to listen to 90’s R&B hits all night. Anyone who’s known me for at least twenty years can tell you that this girl does not DO 90’s R&B. It’s worse than 80’s R&B. It’s 80’s R&B on bad drugs.
Eventually, our hero arrived…and not a moment too soon. I felt as if I’d never been more sober. All I wanted to do was get home.
Thank you, Room for being so comfy and devoid of alcohol and songs called, “Why You Gotta Act Like That.”