You always play the madmen poets

Despite my self-imposed moratorium on imbibing alcohol, I totally imbibed last night, and happily so. I haven't gotten that phone call where I say, "Hey chica, ¿que pasa? ... Oh my God, this must have been from Saturday night. I was so [drunk]. Who do you think got it?" [Cue laughing teenage girl receiving the debaucherous picture. Cue my mortification.], so I must be in the clear for Embarrassing Moments of '08. Actually, okay, let's be real. Yes, I had several beers, and subsequently lost track of exactly how many beers I drank. And yes, I did a Pass the Jell-O Shot Power Hour. And then I probably had a few more J-shots. HOWEVER. I avoided the Dirty Girl Scouts because I knew from my Mind Eraser experience a few weeks ago (note: the cause of the self-imposed alcohol moratorium) that I would definitely not so much lose my mind (or the sensation that I have legs, as happened with the Eraser) but would probably lose my shit.

And you know what? No thanks on that.

As always, flutters of Lesbian Drama abounded. I'd told Quack pre-party that I was going to leave at the first sight of L.D. but nothing escalated to the point where I felt the need to flee. I amended the fact that I'd been going around saying that T was dead to me. I observed more than anything, except for when someone was telling me to strip and then, obviously, I became very focused on that. I also gave a lap dance or three to the Obligatory Straight Guy -- in my totally un-serious lap dancing way, of course. I lectured, I laughed, I bemoaned, I challenged, I rocked at beer pong, I avoided, I received a heartfelt inebriated chat about my self-esteem and how I am amazing and deserve better than what I have, I wish I had chocolate chip cookies right now, I saw some of my favorite females, I called first dibs (again), I did not lose my shit. Truly a successful night.

What happened then, are my dreams from last night. Morning. Whatev.

The major dream was the glacier/dock/Olsen twins debacle. I was on the dock, leaving someone somewhere, and the Olsen twins pushed me off of the dock. I landed on a huge sliver of a melting glacier [source: I watched/listened to "An Inconvenient Truth" yesterday morning because I now have 10 channels of Showtime and am basically never leaving my house ever again, what with my Robe and my TV and my general distaste for sub-par human beings] and started slowly gliding away. The water was an intensely dark, deep blue- but not a typical ocean blue / not one that I've seen, anyway. We're talking deep royal blue with silvery flickers of ice. In the dream, I'm thinking Mothereffer, what's with the Titanic eyebrow-freezing? Is this my penance for going by the name of Rose's tortured, pennyless lover? [Side note: Leo & Kate are teaming up again for a new movie. Something about a dysfunctional marriage I think? A glimpse of what life would have been had Jack not perished via an untimely frozen death?] As I float away, perhaps to my own untimely death, all I see is water, that deeply blue should-be-haunting water. My glacier drift bashes into a much larger glacier and I have totally shifted tense which is something I nail my students for all the time but whatev, this is my blog. I shall squash the need to remain in a singular verb tense. /// So I'm now a little, well, soaked from the glacier-bashing incident. But that doesn't matter so much because the water crests over me, pulls me under, and now I am drowning and shaking myself awake with my half-asleep (half-dead?) attempts to inhale properly and deeply.

I'm tired of drowning. Are drowning dreams the same as falling dreams? That whole If You Don't Wake Up Before You Hit The Ground, YOU SHALL PERISH thing? I've had my share of those, too, though not in a while. This is the first nearly-drowning dream, which goes hand in hand with my nearly-choking-to-death-on-my-own-saliva experience from Friday.