Coma Plans, WYR, Other Things

it's been a while.

also, i don't feel like capitalizing today, so i'm not going to.

i guess the way i can do this best is to write down what i did this weekend, map out what i want to say based on that. sound good? good.

friday. friday was good. i went to see a friend of mine and his ridiculously adorable clown-like dog, and we played a game...an old fave of mine, "would you rather." my favorite thing about this game is picking out the raunchiest, most uncomfortable scenarios, and then forcing people to choose between them. for this reason, many people hate playing this game with me. my ex used to get angry with me, in fact, when (often drunkenly), i would give him one of these fake ultimatums.

my friend and i were really getting into it, and because he and i are very much alike (read: very self-absorbed), there were certain questions that really made us think. here is one of them: would you rather save the lives of five loved ones, or 1,000 strangers in another country (who knows why they had to be in another country). we both picked loved ones. then we changed it to this: would you rather save the lives of five people, and they'd never know it, or let 1,000 strangers die, and EVERYONE would know it. this one, for us, was more difficult. same end, but the difference was that in one, people would hate you. boy, of course, picked saving 1,000 people each time, no matter who knew it or not. he's like that. we're not.

then we met boy and two of my other, delightful, wonderful friends for a few drinks, and had a lovely time all around. i think. i may have drank a bit too much. i pet a great english bulldog mix while we were at the bar. (it was actually a really great weekend, dog-wise, for me). often it's awkward to hang out with friends that have never met, but it was far from it. good times.

saturday. bachelorette party. then we met up with the corresponding bachelor party. fun, but not a lot to say about it without putting anyone's shit on front street (i love that expression).

sunday. woke up. felt droopy. mopey. played with a dog. ate brunch way too late. watched ghostbusters. walked to a brooklyn neighborhood near ours, and saw the bastille day festivities. hit a bookstore for a while. i bought two books, one of which was jonathan ames' the alcoholic, tried to laugh a little. hung out with boy. he had a rough night at the bachelor party the night before.

we had dinner in the bastille-day neighborhood, and i started to get tired. i'd had...not a hangover, exactly, but a sense of sadness and malaise all day (does sadness mean the same thing as malaise? don't i teach english? wow). again, droopy and mopey. at dinner, a little boy sat next to us. he had two small stuffed animals named pablo and austin. he wanted to go home.

i asked boy a question. "if i were to go into a coma, would you secretly be a little bit happy that you could tell people you had a 'girlfriend in a coma?'" he said that he would not, and that even though he loves the smiths, he would be sad about my coma status. and that if he found any kernel of happiness in the whole sordid scene, it'd be that he could, in fact, tell people that he had a girlfriend in a coma.

then i asked him: if i was your wife, and i was in a coma, would you downplay our relationship so that you could say you had a girlfriend in a coma?

he said no, very quickly. i was happy.

then i reminded him of a deal that my friends have, that i've always wanted to get in on. i told him "don't forget to tell n&c to pluck my lip and chin hairs."

"your coma plans are extremely thought out," he told me.

"yes, of course they are. do you have any?"

he told me the only thing he wanted was for me to make sure that no one wrote all over him with a sharpie while he was in a coma.

"oh my god! is that a thing? do that to me, too," i said.

phew. good thing he hipped me to that.

anyway, as we were walking back home, i felt worse. sadder. mopey-er. spoke to my friend via IM, a little. he sounded sad and mopey, too.

right before bed was the worst. sad. lonely. droopy. mopey. sad sad sad. scared. alone.

boy just looked at me and said the most depressing/helpful words i'd heard in a while...
"sometimes i get that way after a rough weekend, too."