Friday, December 07, 2007

No Rest For the Weary, the Wicked, or Me.

2007 has been a really incredible year for me.

The words "hectic" and "busy," while appropriate, are both severe understatements of what this year has been like. I think the amount of blogs that I've posted in comparison to previous years is a real testament to that. I've never had so little time to just sit and do nothing -- something that my life was absolutely wrought with in the past.

Back in January I found out that my 8 year dream of moving to England was finally a real possibility, thanks to some revisions in one of the immigration schemes. So now here I had something long-term to look forward to, rather than dealing with the sickening day to day reality that my life was never truly going to be what I wanted it to be. What an amazing feeling that was.

In the short term, I had my trip to Spain ahead of me, which forced me to become a fitness fiend, watching what I ate, and working out an average of 6-8 times a week. "New Marnie in '07" and all that. I managed to get down to 117 lbs. and the bikini thing worked out pretty well. (Cut to December, where it's a slightly different case, but that's for a whole other entry).

In the interim, there were other concerts to be seen (yay Lily) and more fun to be had, (and unfortunately, work to be done) but in general the first few months of the year were relatively calm. Things started to really pick up after about April.

Before the Spain trip, there was, of course, the ridiculously amazing Tour de Keane, a trip which could not have gone any better, short of the words "Tom, do you take Marnie to be your lawfully wedded wife...". And well, what with moving to England and all, there's plenty of time for that later. ;-) That was the first point where my blogging really took a hit, and I never really regained my footing after that. It was also when emails started to sit in my inbox for weeks and even months before they got answered. And for once, it wasn't because I'm lazy!

After my Spain/England vay-cay was over, and I'd announced my plans to my friends, the rest of the year had the potential to be really anti-climactic. Instead, the real whirlwind began and, quite honestly, hasn't settled down since. I have quite literally run myself ragged and abused my body for 17 straight weeks.

As soon as I got back, Kat and I went to see Muse in concert at Madison Square Garden, which led to us hanging out the following few weekends, ultimately ending up at the Rufus Wainwright concert in August. That, of course, is where I met Matt.

Since then, I don't think I can even begin to get into the weekends I've had, other than to say I certainly wouldn't have had time to blog about them all, nor would I have been able to do them justice. I've been in New York almost every single weekend for one reason or another (usually the reason involves filling myself with booze of some kind) and if not, then I've been up in the middle of the week. SO many freaking concerts, Fashion sample sales, house parties, a long weekend in Atlantic City,"Girls Nights Out", general random drunkenness , and let's not even start on Halloween! I've been to more gay bars than I can count, and I've all but dissolved my liver. It's been pretty ludicrous actually.

Do you need examples? Well okay then. I should have posted these a long time ago anyway...

















































Mmm hmm. And there are more where that came from, most of them a lot less postable. And those are just the weekends we took pictures.

Oh yeah, and for good measure, I met Jim Gaffigan again.



You'd think I'd have been totes over it a long time ago, but really, Thanksgiving weekend was the first weekend that I really thought, "Okay. You need to stop." On that Friday, I wanted nothing more than to be sitting on my couch at home, watching movies and eating junk, (probably unshowered). Instead, by Saturday I was drunk, dancing to "All I Want For Christmas" at the Ritz, watching Valdez make a fool out of himself. (Okay, that was totally fun and I didn't want to be home then). But you know what I mean. I was tired.























Due to unfortunate scheduling, Matt and I had a big weekend in Philly planned, so last weekend was not to be a restful one either. The general debauchery of Friday could have been done at any time, of course, but the MIA concert on Saturday was locked in, so what the hell. Might as well make it a full 48 hours. Admittedly, we both spent the majority of the week prior dreading it, but it actually turned out pretty great. Friday was fun (and cheap!), the concert was amazing, and our hotel room was sweet. My wallet and I could have done without all the shopping we did, but there are worse things in life. At the very least, I didn't have to make the drive up to New York, right?







So anyway, that brings us to this weekend. For the last 5 days, I've been practically salivating at the thought of coming home and passing out on the couch, watching Judge Judy and not moving for the next 48 hours. So tonight came, and I did just that. I watched Judge Judy, then Project Runway, then passed out for a bit more, woke up and watched the Exorcism of Emily Rose, whilst stuffing myself with peanut butter crackers. It was exactly everything I was hoping for.

So then why am I about to kill myself from boredom?

Seriously, it's 10:19 and I want to get dressed and go out. Alcohol doesn't necessarily have to be involved, but I'm totes craving human contact. I'm half tempted to go to Uncles tomorrow night by my damn self. (Jay, call me!).

Next weekend I'm supposed to get together with Michelle and the girls and I'm already counting the days. Saturday I want to go see my boy Robert do stand-up (whom, by the way, will totes be getting a plug on here when I'm feeling witty enough to make it as good as he deserves it to be) because a $5 cover and awesome drink specials are just too good to pass up. Plus, I want to rock some of the new shit I bought last weekend. :-)

What, is that not reason enough?

So anyway, I'm not really sure what the idea of this post is, other than to catch up on the blog that I've been so disgracefully neglecting as of late. Realistically, it's probably going to be relatively neglected for the remainder of the year as well, now that the "New Marnie in '07" is no longer the type to sit around doing nothing, which was formerly my very favourite thing. It's like I've developed ADD or something. Whatevs. At least I'm making the most of my time left here. If this weekend has taught me anything, it's that it's going to be the last of it's kind of a long, long while.

I'd like to apologise to my liver in advance.

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