Christmas night, my Aunt Karma and Uncle Bill threw a dinner party for almost 50 guests. Not only was the food delicious, but the conversation was fantastic. There's something to be said about being treated as an adult. An exuberant older woman named Scooter, who wore a black jacket with pink glitter all over it, talked politics and ambitions with me. The young soul showed love and gave me her best wishes, despite no actual relation. Next was a woman named Kelly, who has truly lived a life. Conversation started as a result of my possession of a glass of wine (AFTER Grandma had left of course!) and my surprise at her age. The vision of a woman has done almost every drug in the book, besides of angel dust and heroin because of the way they "fuck people up", and as Karma said, "fucks everything that moves" discussed life, sex, love, among other things with me, and believe it or not, was incredibly inspirational. After Kelly came a potentially life-changing conversation with my beautiful, amazing aunt, Karma. We talked about her past, her divorce, finding Bill, and the oppression of her mother, my grandmother. Her advice on love, though seemingly obvious, will forever be in my thoughts. Time passed and people went home. The night ended with my parents, aunt, uncle, and myself in the living room listening to Amy Winehouse. As if out of a movie, I was drunkenly dancing to "Rehab" (and the rest of Wino's Back to Black) and snacking on Gummy Bears (not vegetarian). I went to bed fulfilled, and not because I drank alcohol among knowing family. The following day, we left. Driving through Hangman Valley, the remote area my aunt and uncle live in, was a visual feast. The snow covered the hills and wheat fields, appearing to be a bright white desert untouched by man. What followed was a long trip home and a depressing realization that I had no one to hang out with. Thankfully my best friend, Gillian was available to be a listener and supplier of unhealthy treats.
This morning I woke up and went to Bellevue Square with the darling Annie to spend hard-earned Christmas cash. Our day there included overspending, an unfortunately unaccomplished cowboyish boots for her, a lovely little lunch at the Nordstrom Cafe, and a long search for the car in the parking garage. We then went downtown, where I indulged at Urban Outfitters, failed again in our boot search, and visited the wonderful and fabulous Dustin at the Dior makeup counter. Through overcrowded elevators and long lines, we escaped to West Seattle, where I was dropped off to see my dear friend Nina.
The two of us were finally getting to see Milk, after complications resulting from snow. The movie was utterly brilliant, inspiring, and extremely sad. The Egyptian theater felt like a united symphony of sobbing and sniffling. It doesn't hurt that James Franco is hot shit.
My adventures with Nina are always interesting and exciting and this one certainly wasn't lacking. I experienced a bout of "pee-shyness" and had to come out of the bathroom and return, despite my exploding bladder. Our night ended with Prodigy's "Smack my Bitch up" and a goodbye hug.
Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to finish the last hour of Sex and the City: The Movie, which I will proudly admit to watching approximately three times over the past week or so. Goodnight lovers and friends.
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