This blog is not a *total* drag...

I hate when I'm going through personal upheaval because it so easily consumes my life. Guess it wouldn't be upheaval otherwise. Nevertheless, I'm tired of highly personal, maudlin blog entries, so I offer this:

Saturday night, we were having a Mardi Gras party. Mr. Clean mixed me up three G&Ts during the evening. Well, the first two were clearly G&Ts, but I'm not sure what the third one was. Mr. Clean said it had "something special in it," and he suggested I gulp it down. He was trying to get me to chug, but I am not a chugger. I took two swallows of it and as far as I know, I didn't finish the drink.

Instead, I went into the living room and enlisted the help of Single Gay Female and someone else to roll up the carpet so we could dance. We were lifting the carpet over the couch to tuck it away when it slipped and grabbed the bottom of the curtains behind the couch. This not only yanked down the rod and curtains that cover the large picture window, but also pulled two of the brackets out of the lath-and-plaster wall. SGF was startled and wanted to fix the problem. I hadn't noticed the brackets had come out and told her, Don't mind that; it happens all the time. Let's dance!

It was about 2 a.m. when I realized the full extent of the problem. I could not rehang the rod and curtains that provid the only barrier against turning our home life a gigantic diorama for the neighbors and passersby. There were large holes in the plaster above the window where the brackets had been mounted. There was a fine layer of plaster on the floor. Standing on a chair, with Mr. Clean's mystery drink still coursing through my system, I realized there was nothing to do about it but turn off the lights and go to sleep.

In the morning, a neighbor who had come to the party reported that he looked across the street at our home and started laughing his ass off. He saw that I had left the curtains balanced on the back of a dining chair, askew. "I left the party too soon!" he cried. "It's never a really good party unless something gets broken!"

So it would seem. The last time we had a big bash, someone broke the bathroom door. Pulled it right out of the hinges. In that case, I have no clue what happened. I heard a loud bang in the hallway. The vibration of the door being slammed -- or whatever -- was so strong that a framed photograph flew off the wall, its glass shattering on the floor. I went and looked at the person who was in the bathroom -- the girlfriend of a co-worker. What happened? I asked. She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. It just kinda got ... stuck." Something about her presentation reminded me of the time a friend in high school set off firecrackers in a hotel room bathtub and then shrugged her shoulders when management showed up asking questions. Not very convincing. But what was I going to say? I learned how to install a new door and jamb shortly thereafter. I'm *so* handy.

Oh, just telling that story reminds me that last night, Mr. Clean tracked me down in the basement and told me that he had accidentally "lost" the locking mechanism on the bathroom door. At least no one was going to get stuck in there after that. Just ... surprised.

So it was a good party. There was a lot of food and drink, people wore costumes and masks, and things got broken. But I had fun. And in the end, maybe that's all that matters. If there's a personal trait I should more fully develop, it's hedonism.