Here I am, desperately cheery

Because I am a narcissist, I have re-read a tonne of my old blog entries and I am much, much cheerier. I am also very sad for my last, eversoslightly emotional blog entry. Considering my last entry was nearly a year and a half ago, that's not very nice, innit. So I've decided to play nice with your emotions. Or take them on some manic rollercoaster ride. She's low! She's high! What the fuck?

Anyway, cheery story... cheery story... have to give a cheery story... what do I say?... okay, here's one:

Last weekend, P had her birthday celebration on Sunday. She had it on Sunday cos I had mine on Saturday. I probably shouldn't have, but she was a sport about it all. She told me to show up at 2000. So that meant I was trying for 2030, but really probably getting there at 2100 or even 2115. She texts at 2035, where are you? I show up sharpish.

I didn't think you were going to be so late, she said. You're usually on time. I don't know what universe P rolls in, but I am never on time.

Uh, honey, you never heard of CP time? What? Oh, Latin time, says she (she's from Chile). I think we should agree to call it Brown People Time from now on.

I haven't been round this many Latinos since living in Durham. I didn't know enough Latinos, so I have no experience to draw upon, only stereotypes. But mama, why you gotta succumb to stereotypes? P and pals were telling me an amusing story about having 7 people in a car. You know that's how dumb white (American) Southerners think Mexicans roll, right? I am becoming alarmed by this chat.

We are going to the club in a taxi, right? Cos Autumn's booty needs space baby. I ask. Of course is the reply.

Liars! P's homeboy rolls up in his SUV, puts the back seat down at 7 of us cram in like sardines. What if we get stopped? I asked, nervously. It's cool cos Homeboy has blacked out windows (and the stereotypes keep coming).

We're at the club and I have to be pulled/rolled out of the back, though in the most dignified way possible (Latin men are very gentlemanly). And into the club. Oh, I forgot to mention: P is gorgeous. Lovely to look at, effervescent personality, skinny as hell, ridiculously tall (especially since she is wearing a pair of heels that frighten me) and can roll her hips in ways that make Shakira jealous. That night, I was playing the part of dumpy friend in clumpy heels. We all have our roles.

However, the music is R&B, hip-hop and rap. I am in my heaven. They even play How do you want it?, which is like, crazy stupid, cos I'm like the only person in the whole world that loves that song. And when the clock chimes 0300, and the lights come up, I make my way home happy. Mostly cos I know that unlike P and pals, I don't have work or any responsibilities in the morning.

See? Cheery, cheery me. Okay, not as cohesive as my past shit, but I'll get the mojo back. Just stick with me kids.