Rosie's Diary

Lesbians

July 9, 2001 - 5:32 pm

High. Ha! Get it? Instead of Hi. I'm not high anymore. No longer drunk . . . sorry, let me start at the beginning. First of all, Dee and Boss got a place and it is amazing! Here's something I didn't know. Boss is fucking rich! How cool is that?! I don't know the details but I plan on finding out. Anyway, she is the one playing for most of their apartment and it's this huge 2 bedroom with an enormous living room/kitchen area, 3 balconies, all topped off with a bathroom that has a two person Jacuzzi tub thing and a separate shower. It's insane!

They use the shower for showering and filled the Jacuzzi with a down comforter and pillows. It's where they smoke their weed! Amazing! On the 4th of July the three of us squeezed in there and listened to the new Janet Jackson album over and over again. I was snuggled in close to Dee on one end and Boss was on the other. Boss smoked herself completely mellow and offered to give me a foot rub, AND IT WAS AMAZING. Then we ate burritos.

But back to Saturday night (Dee's birthday). I was supposed to go to Boss and Dee's place at 5 pm to start making dinner. I figured we'd make a big feast and then hit to the town with full stomachs, letting the night lead the way. The only request Dee had was to watch the sun come up. Excitedly I said, "over Santa Monica Blvd?"

She looked puzzled, " . . . uh, sure."

Come on! She doesn't get a Sheryl Crow reference? UGH, whatever. Anyway, I show up at the apartment on time and, to my horror, Dee and Boss are ALREADY wasted.

"What, why guys? Come on, I thought you wanted to watch the sunrise!"

And that's when Boss says, "Oh we'll be up, don't you worry."

I should have known then . . . but I didn't . . . because I'm an idiot.

So we make lasagna. Boil the water, mix cheeses, stacking everything, a little more cheese, always a little more cheese, drinking, stacking, mixing, drinking. By 10 pm, we've cooked, eaten, we're sloppy and full, and obviously SLEEPY! I'm thinking, Oh well, that's a wrap, let's turn in. Little do I know they are planning to do lines of coke.

Okay, I don't give a shit if you call me a prude, cocaine is too far. Too far. And I know what you're gonna say, Journal. You're gonna say I smoked laced weed so I can't talk. Yeah, well, I will not ever willingly do coke. I MEAN, SNORT IT OFF THE TABLE? FUCK OFF. NO WAY.

So I say, "Fuck off, no way, we are NOT turning this into a coke party."

Boss looks at Dee and says, "I told you she'd be a dick about it."

I was beyond pissed. "So you discussed this already? Okay, you know what? Dooooo your fucking coke and we'll SEE how much fun everyone has."

AND THEY FUCKING DID IT!

I didn't say that for them to do it, I said it for them to realize I was right and NOT DO IT.

So now I'm drunk at a coke party of 3. Until Boss starts making phone calls. An hour later there are 30ish people in the apartment. Boss's gift to her best friend––a party with 100% strangers and only 90% of them lesbians. The thing is, she loves it. Dee loves every second of it.

I on the other hand, am instantly sober and scared for our lives. Someone is going to be raped, or murdered, or stain the couch. For two whole hours I am stressed out and I feel damn good about myself when, after catching two of our guests rummaging through bags on the bed. They said they were looking for their friends purse but I am like, yeah right, get out. That basically kills the party. I'm thrilled. Soon after that there are a handful of people, including us. Well then things turn into a completely different kind of party. A makeout party.