Sunday, February 6, 2011

I'll drink to that

This weekend has been a whirl of work, rehearsals, and lots of friends. On Friday night my friend Katya and I made plans to see a show at our alma mater, the University of Washington. Unfortunately, due to our perpetual lateness, we screeched in five minutes after curtain and were thus denied entrance. Undeterred, we decided to use one of Katya's many groupons to drown our sorrows in lemon drops and crab and artichoke dip. It was divine.

The night quickly descended into utter chaos, however, when Katya's clunker of a car (with a broken gas gauge) ran out of gas (obviously without warning) as we were driving to meet another friend. After a slow and graceful careen into a ditch, we abandoned the car with it's hazard lights on and went running around like maniacs in the Seattle drizzle looking for help. Luckily Ricky had just gotten off work so he played the part of the dashing hero and picked us up, drove us to a gas station to fill Katya's five-gallon canister, and then back to her abandoned car to fill it up. Katya and I parted ways after that, with me going home with Ricky so I could get get some sleep before work the next day, and her going to meet the practically-forgotten friend. I did find out later that she went to the gas station to fill the rest of her tank and promptly locked her keys in her car. Then the AAA guy who showed up to help her out broke her auto lock in his attempt to open the door.

What. A. Night.

Last night was far more successful. Shayda, an old friend from high school was celebrating her 23rd birthday and Jo (the friend who got me the new job) organized a super birthday extravaganza. Ricky and I were picked up from our apartment in a stretch limo containing a gaggle of friends and we spent an hour driving around Seattle, drinking champagne and generally being ridiculous. We were then dropped off downtown at the uber fancy Purple Cafe for a delicious dinner. It was glorious. The food and wine were to die for and I got to see a quite a few people I hadn't seen in literally years.

The birthday girl with her cake.

Party hats and champagne out of bendy straws.

Surrounded by friends, enjoying delicious food and taking in the sites of the city through the huge, two story windows was a perfect way to spend an evening. As I sat back, basking in the glow of the night, my eyes happened to fall on the window display of the Luly Yang store across the street. I pointed out the million dollar wedding dress on display and was happily ogling it when someone from our party exclaimed "It's Ashlie!".

Sure enough, the model accompanying my dream wedding dress was another high school classmate. I knew that she was modeling now, but it was an unexpected jolt to discover her gorgeous self hanging in the window of a designer boutique. And euphoric happiness from the moment before found itself sliding down a notch or two. 

Looking out at the beautiful girl lounging next to the beautiful dress, I began to feel tinge of sad jealousy. I didn't know Ashlie in high school, really. The only contact with her I ever had was during my senior year when I had the lead in our production of Guys and Dolls and she happened to be dating my leading man. I remember sitting in the cast room overhearing cast-mates idly gossiping that they heard Ashlie was unhappy with our copious amounts of on-stage smooching. No one ever mentioned it to me personally, so it didn't seem a big deal at the time, but as I gazed out at her larger-than-life poster I realized that at one point in my life the model in the window was jealous of me. Of little ol' me.


I have a wonderful family, loving boyfriend, and lots of fantastic friends. I have accomplished lots of things in my short life so far, and and I have many more goals and aspirations and exciting things planned for the future. I have many talents, I like my personality, and I'm happy with my body 95% of the time. But, gosh, it sure would be nice to be beautiful enough to travel the world, meet interesting people, and get paid by internationally famous designers to be photographed in their clothes. Color me envious. 

But! The weekend is not over yet and it's time for me to lock away my green-eyed friend. The apartment is a mess (again. Like always. Dishwasher, why don't we own you?!) and I have lots to do before I head over to my parents house for some quality football.

Oh did I say football? I meant commercial watching and snack eating. Silly me. Happy weekend!

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