I just remarked to my husband this morning that, though I’m less than thrilled with all the work we have to do to the place, at least it’s quiet. No noise from the neighbors whatsoever.
I do believe I jinxed us.
A little while ago, I was sitting in the living room writing, and all of the sudden I heard the most god-awful music. Loud, terrible music. Our living room opens to a little patio that is next to a small courtyard, and that is the direction the music came from. So I opened the blinds, and there was a woman in a workout top and hotpants sitting approximately ten feet away, blaring Eye of the Tiger.
And just when I thought that was about the most annoying thing ever, she repeated the song. Eye of the Tiger once could be construed as funny. But Eye of the Tiger twice? No, that’s just mean – it is going to take me the rest of the day to get that stupid song out of my head.
This, however, made me think of a story.
Years ago, before my husband and I married, we came to Texas to visit my family. At the time my sister and her not-then husband still lived in Austin, and we crashed with them for a couple of nights. Now, I can only have about a half a cocktail, or one very weak one nowadays, but this was, like, eight years ago. We were all much younger, and able to party all night. And that is exactly what we did whenever we all got together. I think we probably hit half a dozen bars that Friday, and got totally obliterated.
Needless to say, we were hung the fuck over the following day. Horribly hungover. And we were supposed to meet my dad for lunch and a movie. My little sister, head hanging over a trashcan by her bed, baled. My dad helpfully suggested she drink some Sprite and eat a little toast, and off we went to grab lunch. Eating, by the way, did nothing to alleviate my hangover. In fact, I felt worse.
Afterward we headed to the Alamo Drafthouse, which is a great place to catch a flick. We were going to see Apocalypto (you might recall that there were some bloody and gruesome parts to that movie, not a good thing when you’re already queasy). It just so happened the new Rocky movie opened that day too, and in honor of it, the Drafthouse set up a gargantuan slab of raw meat for Rocky viewers to punch, if they so pleased (posters also promised a raw egg eating contest for later in the day. Gross). The meat punching was to begin at 1pm, but a long line of guffawing dudes already waited, punching each other’s shoulders and shadow boxing. It was quite the scene. And for me, a nauseating one. I am a vegetarian – have been for more than twenty years. Vegetarian + hangover + large quantities of raw meat = one very sick Vesta.
Anyway, the point is, Eye of the Tiger still makes me a little sick to my stomach.