Follyful Weekend

What a follyful weekend. Managed to work some work in between play times. You know, that's really the way life should be lived.

Friday night featured a party at a friend's gorgeous old world condo on First Hill. OK, you know how it's not a party until something gets broken. Well, the partner of one of my closest friends broke a dining room chair. Not by thrashing it about like some belligerent rock star. Not with a chainsaw like some crazed stand-up comic. He was just sitting on it, and then suddenly the front of this antique piece splintered and ... well. Poor thing. Unfortunately it gets even worse for this guy, who confessed to me that he was already feeling a bit puffy that evening.

The following night we were at another friend's party at their fabulous, contemporary view home in Lincoln Park. Well, apparently my friend's partner got a wicked case of food poisoning and had a little accident. Allegedly the accident didn't actually happen at the party, but likely either in the car or upon arrival home. Apparently the renegade crap was very wrongly mistaken for a fart. The incident also involved some degree of vomiting. Oh, the horror! No wonder people turn into home bodies. Heck, I'd be traumatized ...

Saturday morning brought much excitement into my world in the form of an adorable new client. Unfortunately this particular client also came paired with a wife. Details, details ... She was sweet and kept saying "I-5" as if she were asking for a high five. They're from the Midwest.

We looked at inventory until just after midday. Who would've guessed we would've seen the first day of summer here in Seattle last weekend?! It was gorgeous - sunny blue skies and temps in the 70's if not nearing 80. Of course I took full advantage of it for an hour and a half in-line skate along Alki. Yes, it was hatefully crowded, but I do enjoy challenges, including human obstacle courses.

Then it was over to see friends on Beacon Hill with Slurpees in hand. They spiked theirs with rum, and I played with their feisty Chihuauah. Cruised home to the Hill for a disco nap, then off to the weekend's second party.

OK, I always assume most people have a sense of humor, which can sometimes get me into trouble. So when the Evite went out for this Saturday night bbq/party the weekend after my birthday, and the weekend before two of my other good friends' birthdays, I took the liberty of making mention of it on my Evite response. I also jokingly responded that I was bringing 48 other people. My two other birthday pals chimed in on the Evite as well, in jest of course, for example: "How nice of you to disguise our surprise birthdays by having a bbq." Apparently one of the hosts took our gags a bit too seriously and politely requested, via an email, that foremost I correct my response in terms of the actual number of guests I'm bringing. It gets better.

At the party, the hosts corraled the three of us birthday boys to the center of the party and made everyone sing happy birthday to us. They also bought us a beautiful cake, which was entirely delicious I might add. Either way, the three of us inadvertently gorilla birthdayed our friends bbq. I for one feel like a bit of an asshole, but that's alright. No bigger than the ass I made of myself being introduced to a single, pretty boy at the party. Well, that's another story I'm not quite ready to articulate at this time. I'm sure, thankfully, I'll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow anyway.

While at the party, I got a call from a good friend who just relocated back to Seattle from Rio via Portland. Somewhat exotic. We met out at a pub and then ended up at the Cuff. OK, I had been completely and utterly sober before we met up. A few beers later, and I'm actually entertaining his advances. Well, it wasn't just the beer. The man knows how to use his hands. That's all I'm sayin' ... Actually, truth be told, nothing scandalous happened in the slightest.

We closed down the Cuff, practically, then sang an '80s cover duet on the sidewalk along 12th Avenue when a car full of girls pulled up with their windows down (it was a surprisingly warm evening), who cheered and egged us on. A bit embarrassing, but it was a hoot and we'll never see them again anyway. Though it is Seattle, so chances are we probably already knew all of them in some way.

Next stop was Tacos Gringos, which is pretty delicious around 2:00 a.m. We sat in the window ledge, ate our tacos and shared a Fanta. Then we ventured back to my place a couple blocks away and settled in with some Strangers With Candy. OK, one episode, but it's one of my favorites. He spent the night. We just cuddled. His body language suggested much more than cuddling, but I played it cool. Though he didn't even get to second base, I did make him a pancake a sausage breakfast, really. That's not code for anything I assure you. Of course he used that as an opportunity to say, "Finally you're going to offer me some sausage."

Thankfully my new clients called that morning, so I was obliged to reconnect with them. Sometimes it's a real drag when one night lingers into the next day, even if mostly platonic. So I enthusiastically met back up with the clients, and then with a couple good friends for Thai food in Fremont afterward.

After lunch, one of my pals suggested hitting up Vivace in South Lake Union, a location/neighborhood that has connections to not one, not two, not three but four of my ex something-or-others. Ironically, he requested we visit that location because his ex works at both of the Capitol Hill locations.

We walk into the joint and sure as shit there's his ex and his ex's current boyfriend at the counter right in front of us. Of course my friend pulled the loser maneuver and bolted back out the front door, as best he could in a boot with a cain. I know we're getting a bit older, but this ensemble of his is just plain ridiculous.

Before I'm able to take a sip of my coffee, I get a call from my adorable out-of-town clients. They want to make a play for some property. Great! So I draft the contract, meet and go over it with 'em and then submit their offer. Have a few moments to catch my breath before my next meeting, catching up with a dear friend over some wine at Martin's. Apparently it was pianoke night. Well, that's what I'd call it anyway. People doing karaoke to live piano. We really just met up there to sit next to the hurricane fireplace.

I know I'm forgetting a few details from the weekend. Restful it wasn't but do you think I'm ready for a nursing home? Some 20-somethings probably do, but what do they know ...