Redemption Blong

It finally happened.

My husband, who has been working like a dog all week, got around to reading the blog late last night while I was already asleep. Upon reading, he crawled into bed next to me in whispered into my ear, "You suck. I read the blog and I want my wife back."

It seems my lame American Idol ranting has finally caught up with me. And it's about time. I've been living in a shame spiral since my first Idol post. But with no one to stop me, I've gone unchecked into the blogosphere.

And so, to make up for the atrocities of this week, I will now attempt to redeem myself in the eyes of my spouse and hopefully to the rest of you as well.

It all started like this...

I left work early yesterday to head down to my friend's gallery opening in the Lower East Side. Klaus works with metal and paper and creates things that make you think, "Wow! That is the ugliest thing I've ever seen. I want it on my credenza."

The gallery featuring his pieces is reserved for European artists only, which means that every opening involves a lot of booze and lanky women in leggings and flat boots. I, of course, fit right in. That is, for those who could see me way down at 5'3".

Soon after my second complimentary Manhattan (prosecco be damned!), my buddy came by the gallery to whisk me away from the Ukrainian hooker experience to go see his friend's band. My heel got caught in the sidewalk cracks about 4 times in the 4 block walk and I no one believed me when I soberly explained that this happens to me ALL THE TIME, not just when I've been drinking.

We got to the bar just as the band was starting. They're called D-Bag or A-Hole or some other initial-hyphenated term that means something rude. The band was pretty good and a little spoken wordish, which made me feel very progressive and musically hip. The lead singer was a hot chick that looked a little like my Rock Band avatar, so that helped too.

After the set, we hung out with the band for a bit, and they were all hyper-educated and awesome. The bassist designs jewelry and sneakers. The drummer is a raving vegan environmentalist. My avatar has her master's in film. They also enjoy brunch.

The bar grew uncomfortably humid as the next throng of independent music lovers came through, and so we left. We all ended up back at my buddy's place for a throng-free nightcap. He recently returned from a trip to Serbia and we sipped on slivovitz while listening to Serbian house music until it was time to go to bed.

All in all, it was a pretty sick Thursday.

I absolutely did all of these awesome things last night. I certainly did not watch Lost in my pajamas while downloading David Cook songs to my iPod.