Party On, Garth

Last week was amazing. I felt like the luckiest birthday girl in the world. I've already told you about my Thursday at Glen Ivy, and my fancy ladies lunch on Tuesday. But there was more! Oh, my jewel-encrusted goblet runneth over.

And a huge shout-out to all you dear ones who called, texted and or FBed me on or near the big day. You can't know how loved you make me feel. I am truly grateful.

Wednesday night I was invited to tea at Reds in Point Loma (this place has become to our theater group what Sardi's once was to Broadway) and Calvin and Lisa had baked homemade Whoopie Pies--both chocolate and orange-coconut varieties--to surprise me. Do you know what Whoopie Pies are, Readers? They are like little sandwiches, if the bread were cake and the filling were the most delectable marshmallow cream. I ask you, is that not the most original birthday baked good ever? (It is, though suddenly they seem to be the latest sliders and make-your-own fro-yo--I'm seeing them everywhere!) Anyway, they were awesome, as are the bakers. I always call them my theater peeps, but really, after two years they don't need a category anymore. Twoof.

Because I wasn't home to celebrate with David and Jarrah on my actual birthday, the former planned a celebratory dinner--and invited Mary, Paul and Joy!--the day after. He chose the Cosmopolitan, because we had so much fun there back in September. You can read my review here, if you haven't seen it. I was supposed to meet everyone there after Nia, but for the first time in history I canceled my class because no one showed up! WTH? Never mind. I had plenty of time to get ready for my big evening out, and we had a gorgeous time. Even Jarrah and Joy enjoyed themselves, which wasn't a given after we found out that Magician Boy had the night off. The girls put on a show for everyone, enlisting the help of the piano player for accompaniment. Which we didn't see much of, because we were too busy drinking (my margarita on the rocks had me a little slow and slurry in minutes) and dragging piping-hot churros through a lake of Mexican hot chocolate. There might have been some fajitas with "Autumn Succotash" in between, but I wouldn't put money on it. A beautiful evening--I love you guys!

Saturday night I had grand plans that I almost canceled after a four hour morning rehearsal where I did NOT shine my light, and three hours in the afternoon working/memorizing a scary, angry monologue with Jessica for an upcoming audition. I did squeeze a nap in there, but I still felt tres bizarre climbing into a black lace witchy dress, fishnets, fingerless gloves and cat-eye makeup to meet up with Lisa, Will and Jill in downtown Chula Vista for OnStage Playhouse's midnight The Rocky Horror Show. I am not a morning person, but I'm not a club kid, either. (Never was, even when I was a kid who lived near clubs.) But I rallied, and I'm so glad I did. First, we headed to a bar called Dock's, which seems to have been established in 1954 and never renovated, and I think maybe its first patrons are still in there, too. Saturday night is karaoke night, and after nabbing ourselves a big, round, red naugahyde booth, I wasted no time bringing some slips to the KJ. Readers, I have always loved the idea of karaoke, but until my theater experience, I would get up there and literally be paralyzed with terror, every extremity buzzing as the blood raced to my heart to keep me alive. I could never really open my mouth and just sing. This time, I chose "Cabaret" and spent the opening bars doing the Charleston. That seemed to put everyone in a good mood, so I just went for it, belting the song to the stars. I got a lot of clapping and hootin' and hollerin' (and one guy who just wanted to touch me when I was done) and may I say that is the biggest freakin' high in the world? Singing into a microphone for a roomful of strangers? If you've never done it, I encourage you to try it sometime.

And then the show was all kinds of awesome. The Phantoms met us in the lobby, and I got a big lipstick "V" on my head since I'd never seen Rocky Horror before. There were six of us, and we had to stand up and be whipped before the show. One of the gals even offered me her electronic cigarette, which somehow smelled like apple pie, but I demurred. We did a lot of shouting and singing and only once did I wonder if something was wrong with me because I felt like I was on Xanax. Oh right, I realized. It's like two in the morning and I woke up at 7:00. But it was totally worth it. The show is up through the end of November--I highly recommend it.

Though I was out until 3:00, I made it to the gym the next day by 11:00 because I rock. Then I got to hang out a bit and even sneak in a bit of a nap before we went to trick-or-treat with Stephanie and Co. She made us a lovely dinner beforehand, and then we were off through the nabe with what seemed like most of its residents. One guy had thoughtfully brought a little red wagon in case some of the children got tired, or so I thought until I squinted in the darkness and noticed that the little red wagon was chock full of a big ol' bucket of ice. And beer. Who knew that this was the grown-up secret to Halloween? If only I liked the stuff. A little red wagon that dispensed Cosmos--now that I could get behind. (Or in front of? If they made me pull it?)

Jarrah was lovin' her some Halloween like never before, and she and Nathan sprinted from house to house, amassing so many pounds of candy that she resorted to having me carry her bag. Which is all good for us, since we can walk right over to her stash and swipe something with impunity--much more where that came from. Sigh. I think we'll be eating tiny Milky Ways through New Year's.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.