September 15, 2004

Last weekend, my mom & I got all fancied up and went to the SNAP gala. It was fabulous! In addition to actually getting to don formal wear (I wore a glamorous vintage Neiman Marcus chiffon floor-length gown that I got my mom for Christmas years ago), we also got to drink free cocktails and shop all night and rationalize it with the good cause excuse. I won two deluxe baskets with dog goodies and a year's supply of Advantage each. My mom ate my dessert (and possibly all the others at the table) when I went for a cocktail, and when I came back she was covered with chocolate and very repentant. I talked to some guy for a while who I thought was very nice until he propositioned me (and he was married! pig!), proving once again that I profoundly overestimate my personality, and that men are always looking for pussy when they're pretending to look for conversation.

Afterwards, we drunkenly settled our auctions (still not sure exactly what we paid) and then marched back to our fancy hotel in our fancy clothes and high heels in the middle of the night, lugging the huge gift baskets behind us. I wanted to take a taxi, but my mom laughed maniacally and took off down the street, and since I had nothing in my handbag but a camera and a lipstick, I had no choice but to follow. I walked Kiki around the Galleria in my lovely gown, tossing my hair and pretending to be very elegant and cosmopolitan and not at all drunk. We slept in our big fluffy white posh hotel beds and ordered room service off the kiddie menu in the morning. It was much fun, and I was only moderately remorseful with hangover the next day.

I've been in Humble for so long I can barely remember life on the outside. I love my folks and all, but a person can only take so much of this place. I need to finish up all this crap and get my ass home. I can't handle any more of this weird suburban hinterland with the sprawling brick houses with their pointlessly angled roofs and the identical green turf lawns and sprinkler systems and the humidity and the bugs and no recycling and enormous oversized pickups and Bush/Cheney yard signs. Usually I'm just here for a weekend or so and the novelty of the place is amusing and fun. But right now, it's like I'm fucking living here, and it's suffocating. I need my own bed and my own clothes and my own pans and a decent knife. I need to separate my trash, and to compost, and to walk my dogs around a Democratic block of unassuming houses with withered brown yards. I need ReplayTV. I need civilization without driving for 45 minutes. I need my girlfriends.

Plus, I'm sick of butting heads with my dad. I need to beat a retreat before we end up hating each other.

09.05.04