One of my correspondents just informed me that it’s not only this year that is coming to an end (in about 4 hours) but this whole bloody decade. Really? How with all my awesome math skillz did I manage to miss that? (Just goes to show you what you’ve been suspecting all along - I’m not that smart.)
But yes, the whole decade. Where did it go?
I still remember how in 2000 Robert Downey Jr was all coke-twitchy, and look at him now – clean, sober and in a hit movie. Which reminds - I’m very unhappy with Japan right now. Sherlock Holmes won’t be released here until March 2010. But Robert, it’s OK, I love you anyway and when the movie opens you can count on my 1000 yen in ticket revenue. Yes, only a 1000 because I’m cheap and go to the movies on the discount night, but it’s the thought that counts, right? And besides, his wife is rich and my husband - poor. So there.
But where was I? Ah yes, in 2000. I still remember the insane New Year’s Eve of 1999.
I used to cat-sit for a very wealthy woman (she had a Bentley, ha!) who actually let me stay at her apartment while she was away. So when she asked if I could take care of her cats, because she was going to London for New Year’s, I didn’t think anything of it and said “sure.”
She went on to say that I could have a New Year’s Eve party at her place (her normal “servants” had off for the holidays) and even bought a case of champagne for me. Seemed rather disappointed when I told her I didn’t drink.
Well, I didn’t drink, but my friends sure did. I invited only two of my closest friends knowing that they would invite just about everyone they knew. And I was right.
I remember guys lining up at the guest bedroom door to have assembly-line sex with my best friend. My other best friend was walking on the window ledge outside stoned out of his mind screaming something about being the king of the world. And I was seriously contemplating spending the rest of my days in a place where the apartment’s owner would never find me. Homeless life on the streets of New York was beginning to look like a very inviting option.
At 5AM in the new millennium all the champagne was finished and my friend was out of condoms. The guests started to leave, and who didn’t want to leave was forcibly removed – not too difficult when you’re dealing with unconscious drunks.
I’m pretty sure that one of the neighbors had alerted the woman to our debauchery. Instead of coming home on January 3rd as scheduled, she suddenly appeared in the doorway shortly after noon on New Year’s Day. Must have hopped on the first flight back from London…
She stood there with a very uncertain look on her face surveying the surroundings.
“Oh, hello! And Happy New Year!” I said brightly.
She still stood there looking very confused, watching me arrange a bouquet of flowers in the vestibule (btw, don’t you just love this word – vestibule?).
“I hope it’s OK to use this vase?” I asked.
She just looked around unsure of what exactly had happened. The whole apartment looked not just clean, but freakin’ new.
You see, my perpetually horny friend, who could hardly walk that morning, was not just a useless sex-crazed nymph. She also knew people. The right people. She made a few phone calls and at about 6AM on New Year’s Day twenty professional cleaning men (all men, why wasn’t I surprised?) showed up at the door.
It took them less than 2 hours to clean the apartment like it had never been cleaned before. The carpets were washed. The upholstery was shampooed and then dried with an industrial-size dryer. They even cleaned behind the fridge and in the vents in the bathroom (in case there was any residual vomit there, as one of the guys explained). The guest room bedsheets were laundered and professionally pressed, windows were washed and shined, the balcony was polished.
The apartment’s owner finally regained her motor skills and asked me if I would ever so kindly accompany the driver to the airport to collect the rest of her luggage. The request was odd, but I figured she needed some time alone to count the silverware to make sure that none was stolen, or something. She mentioned something about this not being her usual driver and needing special supervision. Whatever. I went to the airport (no, not in the Bentley) and when I came back with her bags, I got my stuff, said goodbye and left.
Two days later the woman offered me a position at her company. In a capacity for which I was totally and utterly unqualified. For more money that I’d ever seen in my entire life.
And what did Anna do?
She said, “Oh, I’m flattered and I appreciate your offer very much. But I don’t think I can do that. I’m planning to go to Costa Rica next month and I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m so sorry.”
And here you have it. Yet another proof of just how monumentally stupid I was (and still am, not much has changed since then). There is absolutely nothing I can say in my defense.
Except for maybe… I’m blond?
Happy New Year!
PS. The photos are from this summer - Ashikaga fireworks'09. But hey, if I didn't tell you, you wouldn't know the difference, right?