This is just one example of the many thousands of ways in which my best friend kicks major ass:
1. She moves 2,500 miles away from the city she’s lived in since she was eleven years old. She has never lived in a city that her mother didn’t live in. But now, at age 30, she overcomes her fears and does it, and she moves to a city that she loves, but where she has one friend. Me. (Well… Dave too, I suppose, but we’re kind of a package deal.) And she has no job in this new city, she just has her clothes and her dog with her.
2. She arrives on a Monday evening. She has job interviews on both Wednesday and Thursday of that first week. The first interview is for a job really, really wants, but is afraid to hope for because she doesn’t want to jinx it. The second interview, she was kind of “meh” about.
3. The following Monday – after she’s lived in this new city for all of one measly week – she gets the job that she really wants. She’s starting on Wednesday. As in, two days from now. Do you see what I mean? Kick. Ass.
Also, her realtor is showing her house to potential buyers tonight, so this is turning out to be quite a fabulous day for her.
This weekend was a lot of fun. On Saturday, Kris and I met up with Janet and Linda and we went out dancing. We were going to go to a new club that I’ve never been to before, but the bouncer told us that both Linda’s and Kris’s shoes were “inappropriate” according to their dress code. They were both wearing ballet slipper style flats, and he said that “for insurance reasons,” all club-goers must have shoes with a sole that is least one inch thick. You know, I’m used to clubs having dress codes like “no sneakers” or “no ripped jeans” or whatever. (And man, can I put any more quotation marks in this paragraph?) But I think the rule about shoe soles just might be the biggest pile of “poo” (ha!) ever – I was in heels, and I’m pretty sure that after two cocktails, I would’ve been WAY more of an insurance liability than either of them in their flats. Whatevah.
So we drove over to Pioneer Square and went to a different club, which I’ve been to before, but it’s been ages. Apparently we showed up on “Voodoo Circus” night, which would’ve been cool if we’d known about it and been prepared for it. As it was, walking in the door, we were sort of like, “Um… the hell?” because there were crazy psychotic goth clowns running around all over the place, and it was a bit scary. We spent most of the night in the basement where they were playing normal techno-y dance music. Britney and Usher remixes? Oh, hell yeah.
Sunday, we met up with Linda and her friend Ashley (who I’ve now met three times, but it’s always been for very short intervals so I don’t really feel like I know her well enough to consider her a friend), and we saw the new Eve Ensler show, The Good Body. It was fantastic. Of course, I’m no theatre critic, and anything that I attempt to write about it will just come off as cheesy and trite, but I loved it and we’ll just leave it at that. If the show comes to your town, go see it. That is all.
Hope everyone’s having a happy Monday.