It's kind of hard to give a report, when your mouth tastes like cotton balls and you can't remember half the night! Right now my memory of the night is as follows:
Queer Songbook, oh there's Natalie and Scott Allgauer, oh look they're so nice they came over to say hi - people can't pay their rent, we should collect money. Free wine!
Oh look there's the back of John's head and maybe Adam? Opens the program, watches MoG's face fall when realizing John sings in the second Act and not the first, but tries not to squeal because Michael goes up second in the first Act. Comfort her with the knowledge that she'll at least hear Cheyenne. Check watch. Sit in uncomfortable chair, check watch. Plan our escape route, check watch. Hear Shoshanna Bean, yay Shoshanna, hear Michael, yay Michael! Check watch. Hear other people, can't remember, but yay them! Check watch. Offer mouth to mouth services to MoG after Cheyenne. Check watch. Listen to Rob Sapp sing a new song from Zanna Don't and then very, very casually tear for the exit to make a mad dash uptown.
Haul ass in a cab, watch Newcomer nearly take the seat with him when getting out of the cab. Walk right into Kristin upon entering, exchange small talk about something - don't know what, promise to see her later. Find our table in the back with the help of Bruce Vilanche's incredible, amazing non-stop staring the entire way. Offers to give mouth to mouth to Newcomer after seeing the prices. Bump into 2day4u on our way to "tinkle", force him to "tinkle" with us, only you know, on his side of the hall. Get back, order liquor. See Kristin again, hey Kristin, try to brainstorm ideas to save the show. Oooh liquor. Begin consumption of mixed drink which was .5% orange juice and 99.5% vodka and costs approximately half of my yearly income.
Clap clap clap, ooh Michael. Michael's so pretty, especially when you start seeing two of him. Drink, drink, drink. Internally humming along with Michael to a song I don't know which made for an interesting interpretation. Laughs at Michael half acting out the songs he sings. Checks 2day4u in case he needs mouth to mouth. Drink, drink, drink. Blurry Michael singing, nearly cry at Better Than I. Drink, drink, drink. Checks 2day4us in case he needs mouth to mouth. Drink, drink, drink. Try to find a comfortable position with the twelve pillows provided in the booth, wind up becoming a contortionist. Drink, drink, drink. 2day4u still breathing? Check? Newcomer's head falling more and more to his shoulder in awe? Check. MoG laughing slightly louder than Michael singing? Check.
Waiter! Another round. Thinks of all of the good I could have done with that money like used it to sue the investor who backed out for emotional trauma. Screw it. Drink, drink, drink.
More singing. More clapping. Many more Michael's, about 4 of them on stage at once at that point, and all of them very talented. Slurp, slurp, slurp. Molest MoG's hair. No longer care if 2day4u is breathing because I'd probably break all of his ribs if I tried CPR at this point. Sluuuuurrrrpppp.
Clap wildly for so pretty, so talented Michael. Cry when I see the check. Room spins. I may have asked Michael to figure the check out, or maybe to pay it when he came over. I don't know, I asked him something, it's hard to say what when my singular memory of him at the table is something along the lines of him doing a techno interpretative dance because of my blurry head, only he wasn't so much with the actual moving around part in reality. MoG tries to explain geography. I proclaim Faile "you bitch", only I can't remember why exactly.
See Jenna after selling kidney to pay the bill. Liquor starting to settle in to every part of me, not sure where the floor is. Oh Jenna, poor Jenna, but her top is *sweeeet*. She wears really cute clothes. Bare sympathy. *sniiiffff* May need more liquor. Must tinkle in the worst way. Nearly run Michael over on a mission to tinkle.
Oh look there's Jenna again in the tinkle room. Oh look, the floor is still under my feet. Talk above the sounds of tinkling about girly things.
Must get air. MUST GET AIR. Take very, very drunk photos and act like asses on Park Avenue. Establish firm girl crush on Kristin and her hair (and her date). Trying to brainstorm, and all I'm firing at that rate are limp darts thrown against a quadron of tanks. No clue.
Sit on the stone thingy because I have to before there's no more ground beneath my feet. Cannot get up to take picture with Michael. Want to, but cannot. Happy that 2day4u does.
Traipse down Park Avenue in search of food, somehow wind up in Times Square - don't recall very much of that walk. Say goodbye to 2day4u and Newcomer. Get food. Reality starts settling in.
Room no longer spinning from alcohol but post-alcohol haze. Make it home by 2:30, think it best not to go to work still drunk. Sleep until now, but have happy dreams.
Give me some fog clearing, maybe I'll remember more.
"Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run" - Jeff Buckley