Zugenia's Procrastination Salon

I have been so remiss in my blogging duties. I believe this has been the longest lapse in between posts since I started keeping this LJ, and I have no good excuse, except that I've been moving and I hate moving so my mind and body shut down and enter a state of deep hibernation, waiting, waiting for it all to be over.

It is not over.

I've vacated the Main Line and am back in Rhode Island. Last weekend, Z and I sojourned to sunny Fayetteville and found an apartment. Nothing glamorous, but it does have a dishwasher—an appliance about which I have been fantasizing for the last 8 years, I am not ashamed to say—and a washer and dryer, and central air, and a swimming pool. So that's that. I'm not homeless. Hurrah.

The best evidence I can offer of the trauma inflicted on me by the moving experience is the fact that I am retreating deep into the post-Glitter world, not for solace, obviously, which is the last thing to be found in the PGW, but just out of a psychopathic compulsion to take my abjection to the outer limits. Sunday night, nkb_vp_ltl and I, knowing full well that it was a Bad Idea of the Highest Order, purchased several cans of a product called Diet Rockstar, which promised that the consumer would "Party Like a Rockstar." Indeed, as we used the Diet Rockstar to help wash down every last trace of hard alcohol in my apartment (the only part of packing I have enjoyed so far), we did party like one big-ass rockstar.

After imbibing Diet Rockstar, NKB and Lady Z partied more like Snoop Dogg than like Rod Stewart, obviously.

Tonight NKB and I are hosting a little get-together during which we will inflict Mariah Carey's cinematic house of postmodern horrors on an audience of Glitter virgins. NKB's brilliant Glitter Drinking Game shall be our vehicle into unknown circles of hell. I cordially invite you all to play along.

Once fully descended into the PGW, we'll be heading over to Murray's for karaoke. If I live to see another day, I'll offer a report either here or over at isawglitter.blogspot.com.

Glitter and out.

( Trashy But Lady (a mix for NKB): the track list )

This weekend nkb_vp_ltl drove down to Haverford to attend our two-woman Ladies Liquor Colloquium. The plan was to have several too many cocktails and to discuss Matters of Import—standard Ladies fare. What we did not know—what, I believe, we could not have anticipated—was that we would experience a paradigm shift so seismic that it would reduce everything we thought we knew to rubble. I leave this Easter weekend a different person than I entered it.

We saw Glitter.

There is no satisfactory way to narrate the weekend's events; indeed, it's likely that narrative is no longer possible in the PGW (Post-Glitter World). What I can tell you is that yesterday we made bloody marys and watched Glitter and Crossroads back to back. Many notes were taken. We knew that Glitter had somehow changed everything, but we couldn't say how. We couldn't even say what had happened in the movie except that at one point Mariah's head exploded into fireworks and we were pretty certain that disgusting man playing her love interest isn't even an actor. We drank a bottle of wine. The only thing that seemed to make any sense anymore was karaoke, so we went to Yeats in Wynnewood, which has started doing karaoke on Saturday night. When we got there, we were informed that there was no karaoke because of Easter. We protested that this made no sense because obviously Jesus would want us to sing karaoke and anyway, we'd seen Glitter and what are ladies supposed to do in a post-Glitter world if there's no karaoke? We ordered beers. We ordered dinner. We started talking to our waitress, who seemed to be the only person who made any sense to us anymore. We asked if she'd seen Glitter. She hadn't. We wondered if it was possible to live in the post-Glitter world without having seen Glitter and if so, does our waitress (Kate), and is that why she speaks our language? We asked her what ladies are supposed to do in a post-Glitter world if there's no karaoke and she said "go out, drink, and Dance Party USA." I said, "What's Dance Party USA?" She said, "Oh, that's just what I call dancing." We said, "You are one of us. Can we be your friends?" Then she was both our waitress and our friend and it turns out she used to work at Vinny T's, a.k.a. Vinny Testa(cle)'s, a.k.a. "The Testicle," which is so nkb_vp_ltl's favorite restaurant that she requested to go there for her birthday a few months ago and that's where we were going to eat last night except that we were late for karaoke which wasn't even there but if we had gone to The Testicle then we would never have had Kate for a waitress and then for a friend because she no longer works at The Testicle but at Yeats, where there was no karaoke because of Easter which makes Jesus sad on a day when he should be partying. This was precisely the moment we began to understand what it meant to live in a post-Glitter world. Everything was obviously fated and yet nothing made any sense. We finished our drinks and went to Kate's house so she could feed meat to her dogs. Then we went to the Bar Behind the Wawa which was closed but because it's a post-Glitter world Kate got the bartender to open back up just for us. We had our own bar. We called a local radio station to request music and nkb_vp_ltl left a long, detailed message on their answering machine explaining that we'd seen Glitter and there was no karaoke which is ridiculous because Jesus would totally, like, rock karaoke so we really, really, really needed them to play "Straight Up" and "I Hate Myself for Loving You" and "You Give Love a Bad Name," and then Pat Benatar came on the radio and it was obvious the universe was, like, reading our minds, so we did a few shots of Surfers on Acid and toasted to "not going to The Testicle" and discussed What Would Jesus Sing? (Our bartender: "King of Pain?" Brilliant.) Then we all went back to Kate's house, bartender too, and discussed The Simpsons and Family Guy and love and cannibalism and Glitter, above all Glitter, and then suddenly it was morning and we woke up nestled in among a pack of dogs in our waitress's living room.

Chillin' with our pack in a post-Glitter world.

One of us said: "What happened yesterday?"
The other said: "We saw Glitter, and woke up the next morning part of a pack of dogs."

Xavier the pup understands Lady Z's post-Glitter sleepiness.

Clearly it will take a lifetime to figure out just what it means to live in the PGW. Thus we have begun a new blog devoted to the question, What is going on? We call it I Saw Glitter Dot Com. We like to think of it as the beginnings of a new field of scholarly inquiry called "Glitter Studies." Please drop in—we can't take on the phenomenon that is Glitter all on our own, people.

When we got home this morning, we watched Glitter again. We are sick, sick ladies.