weekends a go-go

My Friday off from work was timed perfectly. Somehow, I always manage to do that.

I worked like crazy Monday through Thursday. 48 hours. In four days. Tuesday was the worst at 16.5 hours. When my boss told me we would be going home close to 5 on Thursday night, I was ecstatic. Leaving that early felt like having a half day. After a few late nights in a row, I was not only exhausted, but also ready to leave the office during daylight. It had gotten to the point where I cared little about the weather because I knew it wouldn't affect me (sitting at my computer all day). Predicting rain or thunderstorms? No need to bring my umbrella - I'll most likely be expensing a cab home at 10:30 pm.

But that's all over, at least until another hellish week in August.

My mom and I planned to spend a day together on Friday and, luckily, my bosses were nice enough not to cancel it even though work was so busy. After the second late night, I really started looking forward to my Friday. Not being at work was enough to keep me happy. And getting off on time Thursday evening made it even better. I came home and napped before going to a late dinner at a new tapas restaurant in my neighborhood.

Friday was perfect. The weather was beautiful, although a bit hot. My mom and I met at 10 and walked straight to the Museum of Contemporary Art. Our primary reason for going was the Andy Warhol/Supernova exhibit (which ends Sunday), but neither of us had been to the MCA since it moved locations. There were other temporary exhibits that were just as interesting, if not more, than the one we planned to see. A photography exhibit on the first floor occupied most of time when we arrived at the MCA. I loved it, but I would have preferred to study the photos of penises without my mom at my side.

After the MCA, we had a long lunch. One of my favorite things about my mom is how we talk. We talk about any and everything, and we are constantly asking each other for advice. So lunch went long, mostly because we just needed some face time with each other. It had been over a month.

I didn't want my perfect day to end there, but I didn't have any evening plans. My roommate Anne and I ended up on the couch watching too many hours of programming on the Style network (I do not recommend this). After hour three, we determined we were better than this and vowed to have a good night out (and not on the couch). My Warhol day came full circle once we got to Sonotheque a few hours later where the theme of the night was Sono-a-gogo. Anne felt like we were at the Factory with the drinks, 60s music, go-go boots, and films on the wall. I ordered a few gin & sodas and was having a great time despite the strange Dutch man with sour breath who wouldn't leave me alone.

After go-going for awhile, we left and went another bar and then to Anne's friend's place. Drinking wine, gin, and beer had made me quite the drowsy girl and I quickly passed out. Waking around 4, I was confused and left without Anne. All the while knowing that I might have to work today.


But there was no work today. Just sun worshipping in the afternoon and random parties (rained-out Taste of Randolph, wine, pizza, & Catchphrase, and a warehouse/gallery party where the temperature was about 95 degrees and we rummaged through the messy kitchen for some booze like we were 17 again) all night. I managed to maintain my three-day weekend and have a great time being a neighborhood whore with Anne.

Photojournal to come.