Vignettes from Aspen
I’ve been in Aspen all week long for a retreat. It’s been nothing short of a three-ring drunken circus of snow, whiskey and moustaches. I’ll blog the affair properly soon, but I wanted to throw some clips up first.
I’ve been a champion of restraint during my trip. I’m trying to learn to control my big mouth when I’m drunk. Pretty much everyone around the country I work with is here, so I gotta not get into shit. My first night here, I drank a bunch of whiskey and at an afterparty I heard someone talking about canvassing or politics. I said something along the lines of “Shut the fuck up. We’re on vacation.” There was a cross between laughter and startled silence. Soon after, I approached him and apologized.
Today I was walking across town to pick up a pizza and I was behind a couple. A filthy rich older man with a tiny felt cowboy hat, and a young blonde wearing a flowing fur, clearly real. I remembered little Lisa, and her stories about how she used to berate fur-wearers on the street. Blood rushed to my head. I wanted to walk up to them and say, “You are a disgusting human being.” But I had a vision of her sugardaddy punching my face. So I walked by and gave her a really dirty look.
Camila and I saw Heidi Klum today. I didn’t realize it until after. Hot blondes are a dime a dozen in Aspen. She went into the Ralph Lauren store and a group of paparazzi waited outside with cameras. I wanted to wait outside for her but Camila wouldn’t let me. “I wonder what she’s going to buy. Do you think she’s going to buy lingerie?”
There was a moustache party last night in which everyone was encouraged to wear a moustache. I carved out a handlebar, and liked it so much that I left it on. My hair is getting pretty long, and I put on a fake tattoo of a flaming 8-ball on my neck. I looked like a rapist, or someone who would often fight with a chain.
Today I washed off the tattoo, and had Camila cut the back of my hair. I looked over at Matt, who was lying on the couch nearby.
“Do I look less likely to rape?” I asked.
“Heh . . . no.”