It's not even 11:00am and I already need a nap

What an exhausting weekend.

I hopped on Metro-North Friday after work and got off in Stamford, where Cindy and Zoraida were kind enough to collect me. Their hilarious friend Marie showed up and told us about two things she enjoys very much -- running, and smoking Newports. She said she ultimately wants to run a marathon with Newport as her sponsor. She'd wear the Newport colors, and her shirt would say "Alive with Pleasure." When she won, she'd be teaching inner-city girls a very important lesson -- you can smoke and run. You don't have to choose, you can do both. That girl killed me.

Then we were off to the club, which was one of the strangest places I've ever been, inhabited by the strangest people. Strangest was our bartender, who was sweating profusely, appeared to have a raging case of adult ADD and would only serve us bizarre concoctions like whisky, soda and Grenadine. It was nearly impossible to get the drink you actually ordered. I think we might have gotten him fired.

Later, two very drunk, very awful boys came up to the table and started hitting on us. Cindy decided to introduce us all with fake names. After introducing me as Natasha, I felt it was my duty to speak broken English with a Russian accent for the remainder of the evening. It was fun to look at him quizzically when he said a word I pretended not to be familiar with, and he'd become a human thesaurus. He would stop midway through a story to make sure I understood what he was talking about. When Cindy made fun of a word I said, he told her not to make fun of me, that he thought I was doing a very good job. When three of his friends showed up, I excused myself because they seemed relatively sober and I didn't want to get caught in a lie.

Saturday was kind of a bust. First, I played a size 8 bridesmaid so Zoraida could see how the potential dresses for her wedding looked on an actual person. Always a pretend bridesmaid, never a real one. Then we drove up to Holy Land USA, which we couldn't get into because the nuns live right on top of the damn place and they were all home. After considering and rejecting the idea of scaling a fence in someone's backyard, we gave up. Later, Petey and I tried to go to a haunted house in my hood, but it was all sold out.

Petey, Azee and I got all dressed up and went to the parade yesterday. I was Magenta from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. As I walked up to Union Square to meet them, my garter became a problem. Since I've had a long line of ex-boyfriends who "don't get" lingerie, I'm unfamiliar with the workings of the garter. As I walked, it started to slide down. And down. And down. Then I'd stop and adjust, and I'm pretty sure I flashed my ass to at least 15 people while attempting to do so. Finally, I reached the Barnes & Noble at Astor Place, where I ducked into the bathroom and tightened and stretched and got everything sorted. We narrowly escaped a near-riot at the parade, ducked out when the Seed of Chucky promotional float got stalled in front of us and we couldn't take the maniacal laughter anymore, and had a few drinks at 119 and Ace bar. All in all, a delightful, chill Halloween.