Funny, all I can seem to do at this point of the night is eat cold Nestle cookie dough and listen to the Cowboy Junkies' Black Eyed Man on repeat (for literally all day), and try to wake up some part of my brain that has been taken over by website development in what is now the final week of the launch of the website I work on for my day job, the day job that puts some money into the development of the katie-james.com website and new katie james accessories. I found a local store that offers shots of wheatgrass (now that I seem to be only working from home, I am no longer near the Whole Foods at Union Square that has such wonders), so my mind and body are still going, much to my surprise.
So the nets. And the sign for the suddenly ex-boyfriend's birthday (not my boyfriend, but that of my girlfriend). David was the
winner, and we went with "James Fouled Out!! Happy Birthday to someone else!" I forgot my camera, so I couldn't take a picture. Our seats were awesome - 14th row across from the visiting team, and above the entertainment, which included the cheerleaders, high school drummers, lucky foul shooters who won trips to Mexico, and the young grand master of all of this half-time / time-out excitement dressed in an unfortunate coffee-with-cream colored suit with headset.
Would you believe, that after a couple of 20oz Miller Lights, foot-long hot dogs, and an amazingly embarrassing double turn-over by the Nets that resulted in a score and signaled the Net's sad loss, the stadium never wished James happy birthday. Instead, we fitfully trashed his memory all night (and for all those within earshot), rehashed what made him a
Pisces Bastard, how his 'architecture' business was nothing more than being on the payroll of his much more successful friends, how women 'beg' him for the craziest things that as women, we would NEVER want (and yet he's strangely slow on the uptake of actually performing), and how as usual, we missed all the signs, but wasn't he a great experience of a sadly typical New York glossy guy.
Oh, and how he gives a gross misrepresentation to the name James.
And as an aside: the only really bad thing about eating cold chocolate chip cookie dough is how, when you're chomping on it, the chips melt into your sensitive molars (or cavities) and ache. That makes 100% enjoyment a little bit harder.
Goodness gracious. I almost forgot to think about when the next Henri Bendel Open See might be!
