Saddam

December 14, 2003

I hadn't written lately because I only wanted to rant. I wanted to slice open my bloated gut and let the bile spill all over the page. But I couldn't put my finger on that black nut of frustration. Every time I tried, it slipped to the side like a greased watermelon, and I couldn't find the words. But all of that doesn't matter anymore because it was a passing phase, and just as the term "passing phase" implies, it passed.

I had no heat again this weekend. When Jaime-Girl called and heard that it was colder in my loft than it was in my refrigerator, she invited me over. She said she'd been out late with her friends and that Sarah had spent the night. "Come over," she said.

"What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing. We're still in our pajamas."

"Pajamas? I'll be there in two minutes."

And so despite a few inches of snow and ice, I hopped in my Jeep and high-tailed it to Queens. Zero visibility, slippery roads -- yes, I nearly died on the BQE. But c'mon, the girls were in their pajamas Jaime-girl is heading home to sunny California for the winter, and she and Sarah had been out until six a.m. having a going-away blowout. They were half asleep, still in bed when I got there. We ordered food from the corner deli and watched the news about Saddam Hussein on television.

"This is a historic event we're watching," I said. "People will ask: Where were you when they captured Saddam ?"

"I know, right?" they both agreed.

I told them, "I'll be able to say I was in bed with two chicks."

Jaime-girl looked up and down at a still drunk Sarah, and then down at her disheveled self and said, "It sounds a lot more exciting than it is."

Tomorrow I leave for Scotland.