Wednesday, December 06, 2006

I Left My Shirt in San Francisco

Isabelle is going to San Francisco this weekend. Jealous does not even begin to describe how I feel about this. This would be the second time an enamored suitor has flown my lovely room mate to the west coast this year.

Isabelle says that one business trip out of the country is equal to two trips stateside and now we’re equal, but I still say she’s ahead. Maybe the4re is some sort of rule delineating how much each comp trip you’re invited on “counts” for in Girl World. The rules seem to be unflinchingly rigid, like the rule that Isabelle and I have to be “equally skinny or equally fat”, which necessitates constant arm fat measurements on both our parts.

Even if we are only tied I’m still incredibly jealous. I love San Francisco and I want to go back NOW.

The first time I went it was secret rehab. My father took me there on a business trip and didn’t let me go out at night… Im pretty sure it was at my mothers bidding to make sure I got one solid week of detox in before my senior year finals at NYU. .It was still a great trip though, despite the fact that I had the shakes the majority of the time.

Magically, despite the fact that I barely left the hotel room other than to site-see from the car, listen to Fanny Pack, chain smoke and have my hair bleached blonde, I managed to lose one of my favorite tee shirts. A skin tight black number with a black lace back.

This is pretty much par for the course for me though, since I leave a beloved article of clothing almost everywhere I go. I then spend inordinate amounts of time desperately trying to replace these items, which I never seem to be able to do.

Of all the articles of clothes I’ve lost, I miss my silver velvet hoodie with reflective tape on the sides the most. It was pretty much my favorite thing to wear. I loved it the way you would love a child. A child that you left on the couch to go get laid at a beach party one summer, and was gone when you came back.

I may never know what happened to that hoodie, or my “Saturday” day of the week underwear for that matter, but here it is eight years later and I’m still thinking about it.

A close second is this mini dress I had that was silk-screened to look like the ocean and the sky. The horizon was right at my vag. It was pretty sweet. I wore it to this Fatboy Slim Concert one night… took some X… one thing led to another…. Long story short, I woke up the next morning curled up in my parent’s driveway, wrapped in a bathrobe. I had to go the ER to have my toe nails lasered off since there was so much congealed blood underneath them AND I have no idea what became of my dress.

I like to imagine there is a giant vat somewhere filled wit all the personal belongings I’ve lost over the years. My favorite tee-shirts, my dresses, my shoes, the majority of my brain cells.

At the very least, I’ll ask Isabelle to keep an eye out for my shirt this weekend.