A Tribute To Rain's Fine Ass

He heh. Rain said it was cool to do this. Who wouldn't want a webpage dedicated to their derriere?

Saturday was a hangover day. Laid on the couch for hours, too weak to even turn off Indiana Jones And The Pile Of Hokey Crap. Or Ocean's 12, though the post-modern stuff with Julia Roberts always raises a smile.

Egg sandwiches arrived. Gisela arrived. Three Pisces in the same room: the Scorpios of the world didn't stand a chance! I put yesterday's clothes on and went to the Connecticut Muffin on the corner. Coffee helped my headache but I succumbed to a disco nap. Eventually we had to bear up and get ready for Celia's party, which was the whole reason I was even in New York; the whole reason we promised ourselves we wouldn't over-do it the previous night.

Gisela and Kristina bought vodka while I watched. Stupid ATMs wouldn't give me any money. I ended up changing Canadian dollars at the bank on Monday morning to pay the tolls on my drive home. Poor, broke-ass me... Some dude on the street with a stack of pirate DVDs tried to sell us Me & Mrs Smith (sic). He hadn't sold many... why do you think that might be?! Over to Gisela's apartment, and hundreds of photos in albums. It was fab to see my friends having fun down the years. I resolved to take and share more pictures myself. Starting... now.

Kristina and Gisela drank champagne. I had a cold Guinness because I didn't want to mix again. Because the Pope has recanted his Catholicism. We took a cab to Waverly Place in the Village, where Becca - who's fault it is that I know all these clowns - lived when I first visited the city in 1997, and Celia would continue to live for eight more years before "going into the west" today (Thursday, the day I'm writing this).

I know Becca from 1994 at the University of Kent, when I was directing the stage play Glengarry Glen Ross. She was on a year's exchange and coached my actors with their American accents. I and others (having the nous to know a cheap vacation when we see one) got to know her as fast as we could and never lost touch, even after we'd been to New York and abused her hospitality. Because she has such a big heart. And because her parents have a place in Miami.



Back to Saturday night. I met a lot of people I'd only seen in photos an hour earlier yet somehow managed to only take pictures of three of them: Jan, Gordon, Danny, Tom, Leah, Clay, Maya, and Lucy (caught here with Becca).

Alexia Pilavachi. What more can I say?

Rain and this guy got into a conversation about the odd wardrobe malfunction she was having. She is not large by any stretch of the word, yet her clothes habitually burst apart at the seams. (It's happened before.) Luckily, I was there to record the symptoms for further, you know... investigation.

You might think that me and five ladies is the ideal set-up for a game of Monopoly, but I had competition! Drew and Spencer completely out-suaved me in my "Virginia Is For Lovers" t-shirt. And Jan has this way of getting up in your face... It was tough there for a second.

The vodka flowed until long after there was anything appropriate to mix it with. Vodka and ginger, anybody? Rain, Spencer, Gisela and I absolutely did not need to go for a nightcap at a small Irish bar, but we went anyway. I could tell it was Irish because there was a kettle behind the bar. I thought that was the funniest thing ever, and barmaid Claudette humoured me. Next she introduced me to her is-he?-isn't-he? boyfriend (she said he was and he said he wasn't, which was new to me) who is from Bath in the U.K, barely 30 miles from where I was born. Small, drunken, late-night world! I bailed shortly after. I'd recognised my limits when I sailed past them earlier. Spencer danced on a table and gave me taxi cash.

I knocked into a chair and dropped a glass, waking Kristina not once but twice at home. She had an early flight to California for Father's Day. Sorry, honey! She surprised us both by feeling fine and not slapping me upside the head the next morning. She took a cab to J.F.K. and I took a beeline back to B.E.D.

Sunday was a hangover day. Wash, rinse and repeat.