He Pooped in My Bathroom

This particular night ended up going in a completely different direction than I had ever anticipated. It started out innocently enough--JM was having her birthday party at some bars in the Lower East Side. She was going to dinner at Spitzer's first, but I was tired and wanted to go home and nap. The night before was spent out with the Pubs, at dinner then seeing another dj at Ludlow Manor. And by seeing I mean making out in a chair next to the rooftop pool (a photog snapped a pic of us, which I have yet to track down). So after I was rested and ready to head out, I met GF and his new roommate at the Back Room until JM was finished with dinner. The Back Room is still filled with as many European tourists as it was over the summer with Little Aussie. We drank our booze-filled teacups and then checked to see where JM was. The answer was not good--Fat Baby. A notoriously B&T club with obnoxious music. How the hell she ended up there, I'm not really sure. But it was her birthday and we had to go. The scene inside was pretty bad, though not as bad as it could have been since it was still early. There was no line to get inside but there was wait to get to the section where JM's party was, since it was being blocked off. We waited for awhile and I grew grumpier. Once we were allowed in and tracked down a waitress to take our drink order (since we couldn't get back to the bar), half of JM's party decided they were going to leave. I was beyond annoyed since we had just fought to get there, and without even meaning to said "fine, go wherever, we will just fucking meet you after" in the bitchiest voice, complete with an eye roll and a little hand wave. Everyone looked at me in surprise and I didn't realize how bad it sounded until I saw GF cringing. Oops. This obviously did not stop people from leaving, but since there were now fewer of us, we were able to work our way to the bottom floor, which had basically no one there. With easy access to the bar, things escalated fairly quickly. My bitchy outburst had sobered me though and I pretty much stayed that way.

Now here is where the night begins to take an interesting twist. I had received texts from both Yahtzee and Slonks, inviting me out to their friend's b-day party at a bar in the East Village. It took me a bit to put two and two together but I figured out that it was for Deux's Rapey Friend. I hadn't seen him since that night and I knew I was bound to run into him sooner or later. I was interested to see if this situation would Slonks would go anywhere, after our post-Atlantic City/pre-Europe psuedo encounter. So I figured I may as well go big or  go home and I decided to make an appearance at the b-day party. Both Yahtzee and Slonks had made this bar sound exclusive, so I was worried about two of the people in JM's party--her wasted friend and her gangster looking date. They could not be entering with us, so like the bitch I can be, I corralled GF and his roommate into a cab yelling at JM and co to follow behind us. No need, since this "exclusive party"turned out to be located at in the bottom floor of an Eastern European restaurant. There were about 15 nerds standing around, most of whom left not long after I got there, including a very drunk Deux and his date. Rapey Friend was also there with his new girl, who looked on as he gave me a hug and said he was glad to see me. Yea, yea, take me to Slonks please. Slonks was pretty drunk, but what else is new and he still seemed pleased to see me. Luckily JM and her party found the place and joined us. Rapey Friend hit on her as he was leaving with his girlfriend and I chuckled to myself. Yahtzee and I of course recounted the Croatia story for everyone who was still present, before I turned my full attention to Slonks. We ended up closing out the bar with JM and her date before emerging out into the night. The plan was to go to another bar but JM decided to head home and left alone with Slonks, I realized how drunk he actually was. I decided pizza was a better option, so we went to the place near my apartment since we were close by. He shoved his face with pizza like a slob and I was not impressed. But he was wasted and subletting all the way out in my old neighborhood in the Shwick, so I felt bad sending him all the way back there. I decided he could just stay over but nothing would be happening between us.
This decision was solidified after he emerged from my bathroom. I walked towards it, since I had forgotten to take my make up off and I heard him say "why are you going there??" in a panicy voice. It was then that I smelled it. A whiff of something foul. He had pooped in my bathroom. Pooped in my bathroom?!! I was immediately disgusted and couldn't even look at him. I went straight to my bed and rolled to the very edge to face the wall. I woke up a few hours later, turned and opened one eye to see Slonks next to me. He was wearing all of his clothes, including his jacket, and was under all the covers. A couple minutes later I heard him wake with a start, hesitate, get up quickly and run out of my apartment. Satisfied  I rolled over and went back to sleep.
I recounted the story the next night at dinner. MM was in town with her friend and Atl had gone with me to meet them at what turned out to be the worst sushi restaurant I've ever been to. We had a good laugh over that story though and my interest in Slonks had been eliminated. I then took MM and her friend out on the town, but was tired and just couldn't get my head in the game. Luckily the three of us had some good convos and a lot of fun making fun at MM's houndstooth-printed pants. But I ended my weekend where it began--at some shitty bars in the Lower East Side.

It's Not For Everyone...

The unfortunate thing about moving to Manhattan are the inevitable houseguests, and I don't mean vermin. Once word gets out that you are living in New York, you are done. People come out of the woodwork and ask to stay with you for a weekend. Some people, like my close friends, I do not mind hosting at all. But with others it's rude. And some people you can't turn down, such as family. I had this realization when my little cousin called me out of nowhere one night. I knew what was coming and there was no way I could fabricate a believable lie quickly enough. So this is how I got stuck with my military cousin and his wife driving up from VA Beach for the weekend. Now, I like my cousin just fine, but we do not have a whole lot in common.I knew this was going to throw a wrench in my plans for the weekend, and more importantly my, ahem, social life. I was also going to have to sleep on our pull-out couch for 2 nights and I was not pleased. But I had to bite the bullet, so after coming home from a terrible day at work, I took them to dinner at my fave German beer garden up the street. My cousin had a giant stein of beer and I thought nothing of it. Afterwards we headed to Ave A to meet up with Russian Rocher, who had very randomly run into JM and her boy toy as well. After vetoing Niagara Bar due to the crowd, we went to Drop Off Service. My cousin bought me a couple beers and we drunkenly gossiped about our family. We stayed for an hour or two before heading home around 2 to go to bed. Definitely not a huge night for me though still relatively fun.

However, it must have been a big night for them. I wasn't thinking about the fact that my 23 year old cousin and his wife, who live in the suburbs, never go out. I pretty much always forget the fact that those who don't live in New York, often times aren't used to going out and drinking the whole night. This was apparent to me at 11:30 the next morning, when I was wide awake and ready to head to brunch and they had not budged. When I peeked in to check on them, there was a garbage can next to the bed and I knew it was over. I waited around for another couple hours and when they still had not moved, I headed out for the day. Atl and I got food, went to the San Genaro fest in Soho and ultimately ended up at a bar. I was off the hook for awhile as the fam was heading to a Yankee's game (of course).

We regrouped later that night and I had no clue what the hell to do with them. GF wanted to meet for dinner and I decided on a not very trendy Thai place near my apartment. One of GF's gay friends was having a bday party at a bar in Soho that night and I was pretty concerned about how the fam would fit in. Luckily they claimed they were tired after dinner so I gave them the keys to my apartment and headed off into the night. This was definitely for the best, as the bar was pretty classy, with bottle service. The pack of gays present were all very attractive and stylish, so my cousin and his Etnie sneakers would have been a bit out of place. After awhile at this place we all went to Botanica bar for a bit, until GF had to call it a night. Upon my exit the gays all told me that I was welcome to hang out with them anytime because I am pretty, which I vainly relished in.

My night was not over though, since Yahtzee had invited me to Los Feliz in the LES. GF was a gentleman and walked me there. There was a huge line out front, but Yahtzee managed to get me in by lying to the bouncer that his friend had a table. I don't even think there are tables at Los Feliz but it worked and I skipped the massive line. He was with a group whom I did not know and he was trying to mack it to one of the girls, who not only did not seem interested but also had a couple other dork admirers present. Yahtzee tried to get me to distract one of them but the guy couldn't hold a conversation for shit and after a few minutes I gave up and ran around the place doing god knows what.

In the end, Yahtzee did not get the girl and the fam left relatively early the next morning. I'm not sure if I exactly showed them a good time in New York, but it's not my fault they can't rally or easily walk up five flights of stairs. Luckily they were there to let me back into my apartment at 3AM and I was able to still go out, so all was not lost.

Freefest Year 2

It was about that time again--Freefest. I had gone the year before and why in hell would I pass up a free festival, especially when M83 was scheduled to play this year. Except first I had some shit to endure, though I was not aware of it yet. A couple days before I was supposed to get on the bus to DC, I was scheduled to have a wisdom tooth pulled. I hadn't thought much about it; I had had two others pulled earlier in the year and although unpleasant they weren't that big of a deal. So I expected the same for this one. I realized later, while the dentist ranked back and forth on my tooth forcing me to endure a horrible ripping pain in my jaw and blood smeared all over my face, that I should have expected the worst. Afterwards I felt like I had survived being tortured. And the next day was even worse--one side of my face had swollen up and I looked grotesque. The next day was not much better and I was forced to go out in public. I was extremely embarrassed and I immediately ruled out Freefest. Except the next day my face was less slightly less grotesque and I changed my mind.
After a bus ride which was almost as bad as the wisdom tooth pulling itself, I decided that I'm too old for bus travel. Luckily JW picked me up which improved my mood, especially because I got to see the cat whom I lived with senior year of college. He and JW and BK all shared an apartment now that they were living back in NoVA. Instead of going out we decided to rest up for Freefest day tomorrow, especially since due to my meds I couldn't drink. At this point I hadn't had a drink in about 5 days, which was probably the first time since I had moved to NYC. I knew that it wouldn't be possible for me to stay in NYC for the weekend and not drink, which was another motivation for Freefest. The next day we set off, with me sporting a huge bun that JW had done my hair up in and some 80s purple sunglasses to accentuate them. My face was basically back to normal which was a huge relief. We arrived at the Fest pretty early, due to a surprising lack of DC-area traffic and met up with some of JW and her new man friend's friends. We caught Portugal the Man' set, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I am also now on the lookout for the lead singer (an adorable little hipster) whenever I go to Brooklyn now, but that's a different story.
We then spent the majority of the afternoon all sitting on a blanket in the sun, watching bands that aren't normally my taste but that I really enjoyed such as Alabama Shakes and Ben Folds. I was satisfied and kept thinking about how much nicer this was than being stuck in the sweaty disgusting crowd at Electric Zoo. I was actually among people my own age! We also witnessed a hilarious yet tragic interaction while sitting.
Scene: Tooly looking dork in a UVA t-shirt wandering around. He goes to lay down in the grass and his chubby girlfriend runs up to him and plops on top of him. She is sitting holding his face and speaking sternly to him while he tries to look past her towards the stage. She isn't having it and grows more heated. She continues to speak, looking very upset, while he continues to ignore. Suddenly she winds up and slaps him. Tool has no reaction. She dismounts and sits next to him in the grass with her head in her hands. Tool says nothing. A couple minutes later they both get up and walk away, to our dismay.
Not long after this, Richard Branson showed up on top of the stage and sprayed a bottle of champagne over the crowd. Just an average Saturday.

Soon, it was time to meet up with MM, Same Name Friend and Raver who had arrived at Freefest late. We wanted to watch Porter Robinson, but it turns out none of us could handle it. The crowd was just too young and sweaty so we watched from the background. I still enjoyed it but I knew I was just too old to be in the midst of it anymore. Then it was time for my highlight of Freefest--M83. I had loved them when I had seen them in the spring and this time was no different. Except we arrived to the stage much later than I had wanted due to multiple food and bathroom runs. We had about 12 people in our group at this point and it was proving difficult to keep us all together. We were forced to split off at the beginning of the set which made squeezing into the crowd easier but it was next to impossible to get anywhere even close to the stage. So I had to make due with the back but JW took care of business as she yelled "BYE" and "Uhuh!" to everyone that tried to get in front of us. At one point she even started physically blocking people with her body which caused them to be utterly confused and me to laugh. M83 was glorious and French just like last time and we were all enjoying it. A sampling:

Back at the apartment that night, JW and I stuffed our faces with carrot cake she had made for her man friend's bday. We watched this video about 12 times in a row, while dancing in our seats and yelling "cake cake cake!" in between mouthfuls.
All it took was a missing tooth, M83 and a weekend away from New York to remind me that I could indeed have fun without drinking.

The Pubs

At the end of September, things took an interesting turn. Maybe I was being rewarded for being good and not going out as much. Or maybe after a few somewhat crappy weekends in a row, things were bound to improve. Either way I was pleased about it.
I had been friendly with a guy at work ever since we traveled to Boston together for a work conference over the summer. Upon our return we would exchange friendly emails, mostly about nightlife and music, and occasionally run out to pick up lunch together. He was the Associate Publisher at my job, which is a fairly high-up position, except he was only  a few years older than me. He was a hipster and a nerd, with a Brooklyn accent and Warby Parker glasses. The combination of all of these things was pretty endearing but I hadn't given it much thought, other than that we were work friends. I also knew that at the conference he had a girlfriend, but as we hung out more was picking up that they were no longer together. We were talking more, especially at work happy hours, and one day I invited myself along with his plans, without meaning to. He was seeing a dj at the Bowery Hotel that night, which was right near my apartment. Of course he said I was welcome so I invited Russian Rocher so it wouldn't seem weird. Except she bailed and apparently his friends did too, since he showed up alone as well. We had a good time chatting and drinking, although we never did see the dj, since it was a work night and I couldn't stay out that late.
About a week later, another coworker, a Russian guy from the IT department, was hosting a bbq at his rooftop in Brighton Beach, for everyone who had worked on a particular project. This included myself and the Pubs. So that Saturday afternoon I trucked out to the bowels of Brooklyn, which took forever (no one bothered to mention to me that the B train does not run on the weekends). I finally made it out there, with my tortilla chips and guac in tow. The rooftop was huge and filled with booze and treats and a super cute Golden Retriever named Byron. My boss was also present, but she is cool as soon as she gets a drink in her so after a glass of Sangria we could all relax. Turns out we did plenty of relaxing as we stayed there for almost 8 hours. We feasted on sausages and grilled salmon and all sorts of other delicacies, all the while taking shots of Russian Standard and Mezcal every 20 minutes (or it seemed like it at least)...

Needless to say, things escalated. Nothing cray, but I spilled fish oil on my boots, my boss was yelling out work gossip and towards the end of the party, the Pubs had disappeared into the apartment for quite awhile. Or so we thought. It turns out that he thought he had gotten too drunk so he pulled an Irish exit and  walked back to the subway. My boss and I were ready to leave so we told him to stay put and we snatched him up so we could all go back together. Since it was only 10 I was ready to make a night of it and when Pubs mentioned he didn't want to go where his friends were going I invited him out with me. He agreed and we ran off the subway in Union Square, with my boss eyeing us suspiciously I'm sure. Yahtzee had invited me out, but he was with the rapey guy I had hooked up with not long ago so I vetoed that. Instead we headed to the West Village to meet up with GF and his friend who was in town. After not being let into Employees Only, we decided to head to Automatic Slims. The last time I had been there was with Ibanker last year and though it was always fun with him, the place sucked without a preppy person's protection. It was filled with a bunch of fat rich girls who don't have to be pretty because they are rich and who also have a bad attitude. After almost getting in an argument with one who purposely would not move out of my way I decided that for everyone's good we needed to leave. We headed back to safety in the LES, and on the way, I danced around to the techno I was blasting on my phone in the cab and yelled about the stupid fat girls. The Pubs was seeing a new, very classy side of me, and I'm sure he was very impressed. We went to the Thompson Hotel, where for some reason we all kept yelling "You're so stupid Karen!" a la Mean Girls. We were drinking and I even danced, which I tend to be shy about in front of people I like. At this point, I had determined that I did indeed have a crush on my work friend.
But this did not stop me from kicking the bathroom door when the girl ahead of me in line took too long. The mix of Mezcal, Russian vodka and salmon clearly wasn't working for me. Pubs still accompanied me to another bar when I yelled that I was not ready to go home when we finally left the Thompson. We ended up at Bedlam, across the street from my apartment, where we ordered two drinks, took a sip and then left them  to go get pizza. And as I was shoving pizza into my face like a lady, he told me that he had a crush on me too. I wiped the cheese from my face and smiled. He walked to my door and then he kissed me on my stoop. Definitely one of my most romantic NYC moments. Of course, I put a damper on it by hinting that he should come upstairs and thank god he paid no attention to me.
He did pay attention though when I was blabbing about how I was going to meet him at the Astoria Beer Garden the next day. He texted me in the morning, and after I shook off my hangover and went to brunch, I met him in my old hood where we had a nice afternoon drinking beer, walking in the park and chatting. We even took a stroll by my old apartment, and when I saw a face in the window, I took off running (creepy Ginger roommate?!). Besides that encounter, it was a nice little day and he seemed very sweet and genuine. Looks like I had made the classic mistake of getting involved with someone at the office....

Settling Down in September...?

After the debacle of Electric Zoo and my nonstop summer of working, traveling and partying I was ready for a break after Labor Day. I needed to take it easy on the mid-week happy hours and going out. I also needed to wake up some weekend mornings not being hungover or having an annoying dude next to me, pressuring me to sleep with him. Enough was enough, so I vowed to settle down a bit for the month of September. And for the most part I was successful. I had fun without going out and drinking. Here are some examples:

Russian Rocher has a friend in New York who is a jewelry designer. I have met her before and she is hilarious. And though her stuff isn't exactly my style it is still really cool artistically (check it out—WXYZ jewelry). She was having a fashion show for fashion week not far from my office. So I headed there after work and was surprised to see that it was a legitimate runway show. We had rsvped late so didn't get a seat and had to stand in the back. We peered around and spotted the friend who came over to greet us and thank us for being there. I couldn't help looking behind her at all the ridiculous people walking in—waif-like girls with hair dyed purple, gay dudes in all black, and older people in European fashions. Of course I had chosen to wear a simple, professional and not at all fashion-forward dress that day. The friend left as the show was about to start and one of the fashion interns working the show told the two of us to grab two of the empty seats. Russian Rocher booked it to two of the seats in the front and before I knew it was front row at a show at Fashion Week. Guess my dress wasn't so bad after all. The show was short but cool and her jewelry looked great on the models. We hung around for a bit afterwards chatting with her, and then instead of making a night of it, I headed home.

Another wholesome time was a couple weeks later, when I had to return to Cuse for an old friend's wedding. I was taking my dad as my date, since he was also invited and there were no other acceptable options. We drove through the Finger Lakes to watch the ceremony where we sat in the back, bored. We then headed to the reception where we knew no one besides the bride's family. I had met this girl in Rochester and she had remained my good friend throughout elementary school, junior high and high school, but we had lost touch during college and I was even surprised I was invited to her wedding quite honestly. She now lived in Jersey with her husband and not surprisingly was not keeping the best company. Her wedding party was made up of white trash, besides her sister. One girl even had a lovely bear paw tattoo on her shoulder. My dad was pissed that one of the guys sitting at our table was a die-hard Republican but the girl sitting next to me turned out to be another girl I had known in Rochester. The icing on the cake though was when her maid of honor was wasted during her speech—it was basically her slurring that Kristen was her best friend for about ten minutes and she actually yelled at the crowd when they started talking. It was so awkward and my dad and I shifted uncomfortably in our seats. We didn't stay much longer after that and I spent the remainder of the weekend suburban shopping and getting in quality family time.

Of course there were times when trying to take it easy pissed me off. Like the night I tried to go to the Met rooftop with Russian Rocher and JM. It was hot as shit that day and as soon as we got there it started raining. We waited in the drink line anyway and literally as soon as we made it to the bar they closed. We then walked around forever trying to find someplace to eat but no one could agree on anything and JM had brought an awkward dude with her—she claimed they were just friends but he clearly viewed this as a date. My blood sugar was getting dangerously low and this is when people such as my mother and my exboyfriends knew that it was absolutely essential that I get food immediately or my inner bitch would not be tamed. Unfortunately these girls did not know this and the bitch came out in full-force. I felt bad even as it was happening but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Luckily soon after we found some mediocre Thai, but the damage had already been done. I calmed down a bit but was not myself for the rest of the night. So heading down to a bar filled with NYU kids in Midtown to meet another one of JM's friends, did not help this at all. I was grumpy and pissed that wasted freshmen were bumping into me, especially after Electric Zoo. We stayed for a bit and I tried to have a couple drinks but it got to the point where I either needed to get wasted and make a night of it or go home. I responsibly chose to go home.

And finally, here is when I was not responsible and fell off the wagon. I had to go to the Finincial District one weekend to meet up with ED and her boyfriend for lucnh. They had just moved to New Haven and I hadn't seen her in awhile. After we caught up I decided that since I was downtown I might as well text Prom to see if he wanted to meet up for a drink. Of course he did and we headed straight to the bar. Atl and her work friend were also out and about so I invited them along and this was the start to our daydrinking bender. We hit up a couple bars before a storm rapidly moved in. We walked down to the water to check it out and on the walk back got pelted with flying dirt and debris before we had to take cover in the nearest bar of course. We were just going to stay for a drink but that of course turned into multiple. By then the Georgia game was starting and Atl wanted to see it since that was her Alma Mater. We cabbed up to Pourhouse in the East Village, since it was a UGA bar and one of the ones yet to tackle on our Bro Bar Tour. On the way we blasted classics like Bombs Over Baghdad and Glycerine on our phones. We stayed in the Pourhouse for about 30 seconds before saying f the game. It was probably one of the most crowded places on earth at that moment. We walked in the rain to my fav bar the Ninth Ward, where Atl quickly picked up a British kid who joined us at our table. I was pretty satisfied to drink Purple Haze and eat fried pickles but Prom didn't like the British kid and copped a tude with him. I didn't like him because he had never heard of Old Gregg. The Brits are persistent in a charming way though and he accompanied us to Niagara Bar, the next (and my last) stop on our Day Drinking Tour. Before leaving the Ninth Ward I had to close out the tab I had started at the bar, because the one at our table obviously didn't provide me with enough drinks. There was a minimum though so instead of buying a drink and giving it to someone like a normal person, I decided to take a shot on my own. And not just any shot—Sambucca. The bartender asked me if I wanted it served with ice and I said warm was fine and pounded that baby by myself. Classy. Off we went to Niagara and bought a round of shots and drinks on the Brit's tab. I also at one point caught Atl telling him that if he planned to move to New York he was going to have to learn some American slang, such as “suck it” and she demonstrated the accompanying motion. I was standing and teetering at this point and I knew it was time to leave so I comanded Prom to take me home. On the way we stopped for pizza and after devouring my slice I started to pass out on the couch while poor Prom sat there awkwardly. I woke up to him saying he had to go and rushing out of the door. I nodded to myself because even in my very intoxicated state I knew this was a very good idea. Lucky for me Prom is not a bro and did not try and take advantage of me.

And that wraps up most of my September. Pretty tame, though the last incident was a poor showing, it proves I still got it.

My Gay Date

While I was traveling in Mexico City, I heard from someone that I never expected to hear from again and had forgotten about, quite frankly. The friend that Russian Rocher's friend had tried to set me up with. I went to his bday party and then found out at the end that I was talking to the girl he was dating. Which is why I never would have expected him to be gay, but we'll get to that later. So I signed onto my facebook one day and there was a message from him:

Hey! I'm not sure if you remember but we met at my birthday party several weeks ago. Anyway, I was wondering if you might be interested in grabbing drinks sometime? If you're around this weekend, perhaps Sunday night would be a good bet for something low-key? Probably seems a bit weird for me to ask ... particularly 6 weeks after the fact ... but I'd be totally remiss if I didn't. So here goes. Haha! Hopefully talk to you soon

I was pleasantly surprised, though wary, since he was tagged in photos with that girl not long before. I waited a couple of days and then wrote him back agreeing to the drinks. The date went down about a week after I made my return. I was pleased with the place he had chosen—Gallow Green. It was a new rooftop bar, right next door to where Sleep No More was held and was themed similarly. I met him at the entrance, and my immediate reaction was surprise—how had I not noticed his apparent gayness before? His voice, gestures and mannerisms all seemed gay. There was no turning back now though and as we entered the elevator I kept thinking that the people next to us were wondering why I was on a date with a gay guy.

The bar was cool though, the décor was dark and rustic 1920s with candles everywhere and the staff in character. And since the drinks were strong I just pushed these thoughts aside and asked and answered the normal first date questions. He seemed very smart and cool and laughed at some of my sarcastic comments so he was alright in my book. More gay clues though—he grew up religious in a small Midwestern town and also made an awkward comment about the strip club across the street. This did not deter me though and I made the mistake of staying for three drinks. To my defense the atmosphere was really cool and it was a perfect summer night in New York with a view of the Empire State Building and the Highline. Plus he was actually really cool to talk to and laughed really hard when I called myself Rainman for remembering the date of his birthday party a couple months earlier. Too bad he had to be gay.

Or so it seemed. He sent me the traditional follow up text the next day and asked if I wanted to go to dinner at his favorite Cuban place near my apartment that we had discussed. I figured that I might as well scope it out once more, especially since it was right near my apartment. So I agreed, and met him for dinner. It was fine as it was before and we had normal conversation, followed by drinks at Zum Schneider, the German beer garden down the street. He seemed a little less gay this time and at this point I was thinking that maybe it was the religion and the wholesome upbringing that may be causing him to seem gay. After the date he walked me to my door and didn't try to kiss me and said that we would do something soon.

This soon came up sooner than we both thought—Russian Rocher was having an open bar at Down the Hatch in the West Village and her friend had invited him. Neither of us found out until the night before when we were texting back and forth. So that was to be our next and final “date”. I had shared, confidentially, with Russian Rocher, that I was concerned that he might be gay. She said she hadn't gotten that vibe from him but had never really paid that much attention. But her other gay friend was there and she was going to ask him for his opinion. And apparently I was not the only one with qualm—when speaking to her friend later in the the night she actually told me that Gay Date was concerned that I might be too tall for him. What?? I am going to take that as a sign that he is uncomfortable with his masculinity as most guys appreciate a tall girl and it's not like I'm a giant. I pushed this aside for the time being though as I didn't want an awkward situation for anyone. I rejoined Gay Date at the bar where he continued to buy my drinks.

Except while I was gone he had struck up conversation with RR's gay friend—on his own accord. I stood there for awhile, feeling like I was the third wheel on their own gay date. He even touched his arm a couple of times and when the three of us took a group shot, he had no clue about what shots to order. After the shot I excused myself to go to the bathroom and on the way RR stopped me and said that her gay friend had reported that Gay Date was questionable. I had figured this out on my own, and whether or not this guy was actually gay it was a little too ambiguous for me. He was also a little too wholesome and I was obviously too tall.

After the bathroom I told him I was leaving and he didn't look too disappointed. I then left and walked home slowly, feeling like I had learned a valuable lesson, thought wtf it is I have no idea.

To my surprise (and chagrin) Gay Date continued to text me for the next couple weeks. Luckily he was out of town a lot for work and didn't ask me on any other dates except for one, when I was conveniently out of town. After this, he figured out that it wasn't going to work, since he is a smart boy. I only wish he could be confident enough to face his true self, if that is actually the case.

E Zoo--I'm Too Old for This

I have been an electronic music fan for years, and as long as I can remember my friends have all made fun of me for it. That is until it became insanely popular. I returned from my time in Germany a couple of years ago to find that in the months I was gone, "edm" had become more and more popular in the US. This was no longer an underground thing that ravers and Europeans liked, it was now mainstream. When I went to Electric Zoo, an electronic music festival here in New York, immediately after my return, it had not gotten so out of hand and I had a really good time seeing DJs that I've always listened to. The same holds true when I went to Ultra in Miami a couple of months later. Though it was really crowded, there was a good variety of people. At the shows I have been to in New York since then I could tell the dynamic was changing. The crowd was getting worse and young, fucked up kids in neon were becoming the norm. I still loved the music though and since I had missed Electric Zoo last summer due to my lack of funds, I gritted my teeth and purchased the $350 3-day pass for this year's Zoo. I had my qualms but I never realized that it could be so bad.
GF was to be my partner in crime and he was pretty pumped since he had never been to a festival before. I got out of work early the Friday of Labor Day weekend and rushed home to change into a sparkly gold shirt with short shorts, with the grinch backpack as my accessory. We met up and felt like complete idiots walking down my street to catch a cab. We had a couple dranks in the cab on the way there, since we both like to stay away from the hard drugs (usually). I had brought an airplane bottle of tequila I had recently brought back from Mexico which was a real struggle to get down. Some young bros in the cab next to us started waving when they saw me trying not to gag, We were taking a ferry to Randall's Island where the fest was located and we spotted the line of neon well before we even drove up to the dock. We joined the masses and immediately felt old. Everyone around us was the exact same person--an 18 to 22 year old wearing minimal neon clothing and looking like they belonged to Gamma Phi Beta or Sigma Chi at Syracuse University. I was not impressed but hoped that things would improve once we got on the island. (Spoiler alert--they didn't).
GF and I still managed to have a good time though, as we always do, despite literally being some of the oldest people there. We danced around and drank and saw some of our faves like Hardwell and Ferry. A couple of people took some pictures with the grinch, but that was the only attention I got, since everyone assumed GF was my boyfriend even though he was wearing a midriff-baring lacrosse jersey and a pink bandanna. Or it could've been the fact that I was old enough to have babysat most of the other concert goers. Now for those of you that have never been to a festival it is pretty tough to deal with at times. It was roughly 150 degrees outside and very crowded. You are constantly getting bumped into and since I was drinking I spent a good amount of time in the bathroom line. Everything is overpriced so GF and I wanted to avoid eating. We went the whole afternoon doing so until we hit a wall and wondered why we were wandering around like zombies. We sucked it up and gobbled up some bad pizza like we would never eat again. We were instantly revived and were able to finish out the last couple of sets before heading home where I collapsed into bed, exhausted.
We had a whole other day ahead of us, so after stuffing our faces with brunch in the morning, we decided the only way to push through was to take a bunch of aderall. Back to the zoo we went, with me decked out in my neon Hello shirt, since we were going to be seeing my fav, Martin Solveig. Since this was a Saturday, it turned out to be even worse than the day before. It was just as hot, but even more packed with youngings and I literally felt like I was at a frat party at NYU. Every teenager from New Jersey, Long Island and Westchester had their parents buy them a ticket and give them spending money to purchase an insane amount of drugs. The scene was not pretty. Still, GF and I persevered and managed to see some awesome sets, like Bingo Players' and Sasha's (who is an oldschool dj and had been one of my faves when I saw him at Ultra). And of course Martin Solveig was awesome, as usual. This was the third time I was seeing him with GF and each time had been a crowded sweaty experience. This time was no different. We got there early and squeezed our way towards the front of the tent. It was about 20 degrees hotter under there than the 90 degrees outside and we were absolutely soaked. During my fave song, GF hoisted me up on his shoulders and I almost slipped off. I bounced around up there for a few minutes and was ecstatic when of the photographers in the booth came over and snapped a photo (I have been scouring the internet and have yet to locate this photo--I will love you forever if you do). But a minute later one of the bouncers motioned for me to get down, yet he did not chastize the 17 year old with the huge boobs waving around the French flag. (Boob Girl's pic did make it in the internet). Unforunately, GF and I made the decision to leave halfway through Martin's set to see Dada Life, who sucked big time. I also wasn't impressed with some of the others whom I normally like, including Benny Benassi. I noticed that even the music had changed--rather than the sets being a variety of styles, everyone seemed to cater to Americans' loveof testorone-esque, intense beats, which resulted in all the sets sounding pretty much the same. This was no longer music inspired by European nightclubs--it was the same beat played over and over at the Jersey Shore.
For the final day, GF made the wise decision to stay home. Luckily there were visitors in town who would be attending with me--MM and Same Name Friend were coming up from Baltimore and DC. After a sleepless night, I put on my neon halfshirt from Thailand and headed to Midtown to meet Same Name Friend for brunch. We were waiting on MM and her college roommate Raver to meet us at the hotel. After brunch, the two of us ate a bunch of pot brownies, since I could no longer endure this festival sober. This day was going to be particularly tedious since it was....Dubstep Day. I cannot stand dubstep but there were a couple of djs I did want to see playing and since I had spent so much on the ticket, I was getting my money's worth. After the two of them arrived and Raver donned her amazing rave outfit (skintight bodysuit with a light up bra, accessorized with about 100 bracelets aka candy) we hopped in a cab and were deposited at the gate. It seemed to be just as crowded as the day before, but luckily the crowd wasn't quite as young as the day before. Still a bunch of underdressed teenagers though so I popped another aderall and went on in. The day was what I expected--lots of insanely loud, nerve-grinding "music". We wandered around for a lot of it in a daze since the whole thing was a lot to handle. Everyone stopped to take pictures with Raver and her ridic outfit, which is saying a lot for these types of fests. She met up with one of their friends who had drugs aplenty for everyone, and despite my general rule of not doing hard drugs, I relented, since this was the only way I was going to make it through the rest of the night. This time actually wasn't bad, like it was the other times I have done these, and I was in a good mood just chatting away to whoever would listen. MM was on the same page with me though and halfway through Tiesto's set (which was nothing like the amazing set he played when I saw him in Switzerland) we decided to park it in the grass on the hill overlooking the fest. We sat there for awhile, like two old hens, bitching about how the scene had changed and it was just a bunch of kids. To emphasize our point, a girl came up to us and asked if she could use one of our phones because she was "16 and needed to call her mom". Of course we were the oldest and most responsible people there and we both agreed that if anyone from either of our very professional jobs could see us at that moment we would probably be fired.
Luckily soon after everyone else had had enough too and we all left early. We couldn't take the ferry back since we didn't all have the passes so we walked across the bridge into Harlem where we spent a few nerve-wrecking minutes looking for a cab. We then went back to the hotel, looking ridiculously out of place in our neon dirty clothing. We feasted on pizza in the room and chatted until I went home and manically cleaned my apartment for half the night since sleep was not an option with all the substances in my system.
So was Electric Zoo worth it? No way. It would have been if I was 20 or the scene was still the same as it was when I was 20. But a time-weathered 26 year old like me has no business being at an event like this. Unless I'm VIP....

The Homewrecker

And the misbehaving guys continue. This one was bound to happen though. I knew it in the back of my head and it had been building up for months. High School. My "friend" whom I had met while interning at MoMA when I first moved to NYC last year. As a review, he is from the Cuse as well and we had gone to the same high school (hence the name). At the beginning of our "friendship" we had gone drinking at the Astoria beer garden and then he stayed at my apartment til 6AM, with nothing at all happening between us. Ever since then we texted fairly regularly and met up to go drinking every once in awhile. We somehow always manage to see flattened roadkill when we are together. But what makes this all interesting is that he has a girlfriend, whom he has never mentioned to me. I know she exists because it is listed on facebook. I have of course done some research and have determined that they have been together for at least a couple of years. Yet he has never once talked about her, though I have never brought her up either. And this is how it went, until a fateful Saturday night changed everything with us.
Atl and I were fishing around for plans-- we were set on going out but there didn't seem to be a whole lot going on. I saw on facebook that a couple of JM's friends were at Arrow Bar nearby so I texted one and informed her we would be meeting her there. We trucked over and before we were even inside the bar we had a couple of bros talking to us. This was part of our plan all along, since we wanted free drinks so we went with it, even though one of them was a ginger. I greeted the girls but we were occupied with our bros and free shots so we didn't end up staying with them for very long. We instead accompanied said bros to Doc Holliday's down the street, which is a dive-y country bar, but I was excited that they had Labatt. More shots and more drinks and we of course headed across the street to Niagara Bar, which was our final stop on our tour of Avenue A. I know we met up with some of their friends but things were a little fuzzy for me after about 6 shots and I don't remember this too much. I definitely wasn't the drunkest one in our group though--the ginger had beer spilled down the front of his shirt right next to a cigarette burn.
Since we were all very classy we hopped in a cab and headed to the Thompson Hotel, where they for some reason unbeknownst to me, let us all in. Now the texts with High School had started earlier in the night, determining where the other was. This night High School decided to come meet up with me, even after I gave him wrong directions and he ended up in the West Village. Atl had disappeared with one of the bros at this point, leaving me with the ginger, which was never ever going to happen. High School met us both in the lobby and there was a 30 second awkward period until the ginger got the hint and left. Then the two of us started our own drinking tour of Houston St. stopping at 2 or 3 bars, though I have no idea where and for how long. We eventually made it back to Avenue C, where after picking up some pizza headed up to my apartment to continue drinking. At this point I was obviously extremely drunk and mid-pizza got up to pass out on my bed. He followed me and it went down. We didn't sleep together but it must have gotten pretty hot and heavy since I woke up in the morning with no clothes on. I panicked when I realized he was next to me and  was very uncomfortable. It's not that I don't like High School. I do have a little crush on him. But we had gone so long with nothing ever happening that I had just started thinking it never would and that we were actually friends. So of course I kept my cool, but trying to put my clothes back on without uncovering myself and telling him that this was "weird". Smooth. I also told him his girlfriend would be pissed, to which he had no response at all. Not fessing up even then. But the man was in my bed so I knew I needed to cut the tension. We watched the Old Greg video and made stupid jokes and things seemed to be back to normal besides us laying in my bed together. And to my surprise he even put my new Ikea dresser together for me when I asked. I was pretty hungover and didn't contribute much. Dresser looks great though. Then the two us and Atl headed to brunch, where we all drank Bloody Marys and I felt better. After sitting there for about 3 hours listening to the bartender's awesome playlist, High School took his leave and I haven't seen him since. We are back to texting again but I don't think either of us wants to be the first to bring up hanging out. And now I can officially consider myself a homewrecker.

Who Raised These Males??

It was my first weekend back in New York after being away for almost a month and I was playing it by ear. Friday after work I went to see Work Friend's band play at Bowery Electric but there wasn't much going on after so I headed home in a pouty mood. Yahtzee texted me on my way and said that they were heading to a bar right near my apartment. I was pleased at this as I didn't feel like going far. After waiting around for them I considered just going to bed until he called me from the cab and ordered me to come out. It turns out the bar was literally kitty corner from my apartment and I had somehow never noticed it before. I walked in and it was actually really cool. I saw Yahtzee standing with one of Deux's friend, whom I had met on several occasions, yet I hadn't really spoken with besides once on my bday. We will call him Razzle. He is good-looking but seemed like a total flake and player from what I had witnessed so far. He was determined to hook up with someone that night and unfortunately he set his sights on me. He greeted me very enthusiastically and I was a bit taken aback but took a shot with them all to take the edge off. Deux was there with a date, who actually turned out to be a cool girl. No matter since she will never be brought around again. As the night progressed, Razzle was laying it on pretty thick and I was trying to not fall into his trap. He was Deux's best friend after all, and I had already gone there with him, so I didn't want to do the same with his friend.
Atl showed up for a bit and commented that there was no way I was getting out of this one unless I was a total bitch to him--his claws were in deep. Luckily she was being hilarious as usual and had her huge bag with her from work which she kept hitting random people with. She left soon after, as did Deux and his date, leaving me with Yahtzee and Razzle. Razzle kept trying to make me dance with him, which I begrudgingly obliged. I'm sure he was sorry after he saw my terrible dance skills. This did not deter him though and he kept up his act. Yahtzee left without me realizing and I was really done for. Razzle said we should go to another bar and I agreed, hoping that by getting him farther away from my apartment it would be easier to fight him off. We walked up to Ave A but somehow didn't realize that it was just about last call. I decided this was my cue and said I was going to head home. Razzle said he would walk me and I insisted more than once that he didn't have to. Yea right. He walked me to my door and I was ready to dash inside when he pulled the line--"Can I come up and use the bathroom". Jesus Christ. At this point I just threw in the towel. I was tired and sick of fighting. Sure dude come up and "use the bathroom".
But there are times in life when you should fight and this was one of them. Even though Razzle was good-looking and a successful guy, he was pushy right from the beginning so I should have figured that this would continue behind closed doors. He is also friends with Deux aka the Midnight Rapist, so that was not a good sign. I unfortunately ignored these red flags. I as always informed him that I would not be sleeping with him but he was not ready to take no for an answer. He kept pushing the issue, trying anything he could think of to make me want to. He kept trying to reason with me that it was a good idea and the icing on the cake was when he asked if we could have anal sex. ABSOLUTELY NOT.
And to make matters worse Razzle was not the only guy who had tried to force himself on me recently. The Hipster was also pretty insistent about getting what he wanted, except he tried to put it when he thought I wasn't paying attention. Like I am not going to notice your giant wang coming near me?? I had blocked this from my memory because I had a little crush on him but I brought it back to the surface once he blew me off. So this is where the question arises--who raised these guys?? As a female I was under the impression that it is your prerogative to sleep and NOT sleep with whomever you would like and just because you allow a dude into your bed, doesn't mean that he is guaranteed sex. Yes this may make you a "tease" and I do admit it is a bit amusing to see these guys lose their shit over not getting what they want. But, males, if a girl tells you no, and you try anyway, well that is just a bit rapey. If I ever have children, and they are males, I will certainly be teaching them this, unlike the mothers of Hipster and Razzle who apparently never taught them that lesson. And after all that fighting I did never hear from Razzle afterwards, not like I would've wanted to. I also have yet to see him, and I am dreading it. It is inevitable, since he is friends with Yahtzee and I will have to have my game face ready.
The next day, conveniently, was a Girls' Day, which JM had planned with some of her friends and was exactly what I needed. We went to the Warm Up at MoMA PS1, which is basically a giant dance party in the courtyard of a museum. We saw some art, drank some beers and danced around. The only male we had contact with was a drunk hipster who came up behind us and lifted up his shirt revealing his fat gut. He would try and sneak in the background of our pictures with his fat stomach hanging out and I actually thought it was pretty hilarious. The Warm Up was followed by a long dinner where we ordered basically everything on the menu to share and cracked up at each other's stories. A perfect way to forget about terrible guys and their rude tendencies.

Hola Mexico! Part 2

After our experience at the fancy happy hour, Little Aussie and I spent the next couple days on the tour group circuit. We saw all the sights there are to see in Mexico City--the Frida Kahlo museum, traditional markets with food I could not identify, and a boat trip down a canal where a Mexican lady cooked us traditional food, which I devoured. The food in Mexico was amazing and I ate my face off the whole time, not getting sick once. We also spent time making fun of the fat couple in love in our tour group. Our Mexican tour guide also made a winning comment at one point when we were stuck in traffic (which was often). I don't know wtf he was talking about since I was dozing but I woke up to hear "the whale that participate in the movie of Willy, no?". It was classic.

Unfortunately the formerly beautiful weather had taken a turn for the worst. A dipshit hurricane was moving towards the coast and we were feeling the affects with rainy, cool weather. This literally put a damper on our touring so the last day we decided to buy a ticket for a bus tour which made a stop at a shopping mall, where we spent too many pesos on clothes we didn't need. It then took us three hours on the bus to get back to our hostel because of traffic. At this point I had had enough of Mexico City and just wanted to go home. But we needed to push through since we were meeting up with OG and his friends that night. We had met them the night before at a bar, where when I was animatedly telling a story I managed to knock a bottle of tabasco sauce onto my white shirt. I was hoping to make up for this tonight by not embarrassing myself.

We were headed to a neighborhood called Santa Fe that night, close to where OG lives. We had been told it would be a big night so Little Aussie and I decided to wear our going out clothes, which are perfectly acceptable anywhere but Latin America. As soon as we left our room we knew it was a bad idea as every male in a 25 mile radius stopped to stare and whistle at us in our short skirts. We ran quickly to where Alejandro was parked. He had served as our driver the past couple of nights. He drove a white Plymouth Neon and spoke zero English but he managed to get us to the hotel where we were meeting up with OG. Except he was late (because he is Mexican) and we waited for a half hour in the lobby looking like prostitutes. He finally met us and drove us to his friends' house, where we drank and played King's Cup. Except Mexicans have a weird rule--for one round you have to pretend to be an animal while not showing your teeth, so no laughing. This proved to be pretty much impossible as it was one of the most hilarious things I have ever witnessed.

After we were sufficiently drunk we headed to a nearby bar which was very strange because it was in the middle of a fancy shopping mall. The boys met up with some friends that they knew and I scored some free drinks. One of the chicos took a liking to me. I was sitting with his arm around me when he started talking about how he liked one of the girls who was there earlier. Little Aussie did not appreciate this and told OG, who then bitched him out til he left me alone. A bit later the original crew of us headed to a club which was close by and was, according to the boys, "the most exclusive club in Mexico". One of their other friends, who had a wooden leg, got us in since he was getting bottle service. We all took the elevator up and were let out in what looked like any club I had been to in New York or Paris and I was happy. We all danced around and I know at one point I was yelling the words to "Somebody That I Used to Know". Little Aussie was starting to buddy up with one of the friends and I decided I was bored. I walked over to the table of guys next to us and announced my presence with a loud "Hooooola!" and a wave. I chatted with them for awhile and gave my email address to one. I must have given my email address to 6 different people that night and luckily I have not heard from any of them.

Upon my return Little Aussie was making out with the friend and OG and I got into a deep discussion. The only thing I remember from it was him telling me that I am "one of the smartest girls he knows". He then made his exit to meet up with his current hookup and I danced with the wooden leg guy. I as usual stumbled around like a rag doll. Even a guy with a wooden leg can dance better than me. Finally around 6AM it was time to leave. Little Aussie had a hard time fighting off her makeout, as he kept trying to get her to go back home with him. He had the audacity to suggest we have a threesome then called her about 4 times when we were back in Alejandro's Neon. Shameless.

Luckily she did not go back with him as we needed to check out of the hostel at 10AM, a couple hours away. We were awakened a bit after 10 by church bells and cheering outside. Mexico had won the Olympic gold against Brazil in the final soccer game and the country was losing its shit. The two of us were as well, running around trying to pack and get out of the hostel. Finally we ran downstairs and Little Aussie jumped in a cab. She was flying back to LA to meet up with Baby J, then go back to Australia. I was planning to ride a few blocks with her. I was meeting up with OG's parents who were in town at their hotel so we could all go to OG's apartment together, as I was staying an extra night. However the cabbie informed me that the roads were closed because of the fans from the game and that it was not safe to walk. Little Aussie and I were forced to hastily say goodbye and I headed to the front desk where I stayed for a half hour trying to get a hold of OG's parents and of course ended up in tears. Luckily one of the workers convinced a gypsy cab to take me the few blocks to my destination, which cost me $20. He dropped me off in the midst of the crowd and I still ended up having to walk a couple blocks, pushing through the fans and getting cat-called.

In the lobby I had to ask the concierge to ask around to see if he could find the parents. I had met them a couple of years ago in Switzerland but I didn't remember what they looked like. As soon as they found me I burst into tears once again, and though they must have thought I was a crazy person, they were extremely nice to me and escorted me to their waiting car. The driver had a hard time getting through the crowded streets and it took us a couple of hours to get to OG's apartment. It was located in a mountainous and affluent area of the city and was in a gated building. I spent the day with OG, his parents, his brother and his sister hanging out. I felt like the foreign exchange student and it was nice to relax and not be running around constantly. In the evening they cooked me an authentic Mexican dinner and his dad offered me a Mexican cerveza which I gladly accepted. We then all watched coverage of the big win together as a family. My flight was early the next morning and I was sad to leave them all. I had survived Mexico, unscathed and without getting kidnapped. I feel lucky to have experienced one of the largest cities in the world (it takes 3 and a half hours to drive across it in normal traffic). But for such a huge city I found the people to be extremely welcoming. Though I was sometimes I overwhelmed, I enjoyed my time there.

Hola Mexico! Part 1

A short while after leaving San Fran, Little Aussie and I found ourselves in a completely different world--Mexico. It may be close enough to home but it does not feel like it one bit. Especially not where we were heading. We must be the only girls in their 20s, who rather than vacationing at a beach in Mexico like normal people, decide to go to Mexico City. I joked to friends before leaving that they better be willing to negotiate with my kidnappers or else risk finding one of my fingers in their mailbox. Spoiler alert--we made it out of Mexico unscathed!

Now we didn't just choose this at random. My friend OG, another Hamburg friend, was from there and had invited us to visit. He was the final stop on our reunion tour. I hadn't seen him since he had come to visit me in NYC last spring and I was excited since OG is always fun. We weren't going to be staying with OG though, since he lived a bit outside of this massive mega-city and he thought it would be better if we stayed in the center of things. So he booked us a room at hostel in the city center. Except he booked us the penthouse suite, where we not only had our own private room but also had our very own rooftop patio overlooking the royal palace and the cathedral. Baller status! A sampling of our view:

I had spent the cab ride from the airport with my face pressed to the window at the view outside and now I couldn't stay away from the balcony, watching the hustle and bustle of the city before me. This was probably the craziest place I had ever seen. There were people everywhere, and the traffic was ridiculous. There were no lines in the roads and apparently no rules of the road. It was crowded and busy and loud. And we did not fit in. There didn't seem to be many tourists, not surprisingly, and those that were definitely came from Latin America. We are about as white as can be and were noticed, as we walked the neighborhood around our hostel looking for a bank and snacks. Neither of us spoke Spanish, my phone didn't work and OG hadn't responded to my last emails. It was getting cloudy and people were starting to clear the streets. We had somehow gotten turned around and weren't sure which way to go back. Of course it started to downpour and we were running through the streets, soaking wet, trying to figure out where the hell we were. When we finally did, we walked back into our hostel dejected and dripping wet and definitely not feeling like ballers.

We got some much-needed sleep that night and in the morning woke up early for a tour put on by the hostel. We visited some cathedrals and Aztec ruins around the city, including a square where 1,000 student protesters were killed by the government in 1968, before heading outside the city to the pyramids of Teotihuacan. Our tour group was made up of a variety of foreigners, including a few Europeans. I was the only American and this suited me fine. On the van ride out we listened to the Olympic soccer game in which Mexico was playing, and I again stared out the window at the slums lining the mountains outside. Before heading to the pyramids we stopped at a local store, which made it's own crafts, like sculptures out of volcanic rock, and tequila and mezcal. They gave us about 3 shots and then Little Aussie and I went to town in the store, buying up little statues and bottles of liquor. I'm sure it was wildly overpriced but neither of us seemed to care. (Sidenote, when I returned home to NYC I realized that the bottles of mezcal I had bought had the worm at the bottom..sick).

We then headed over to the pyramids to get to climbing. It was an absolutely beautiful day out--the perfect temperature, with a breeze that had a balmy smell and the sunlight was almost blinding. I have never experienced weather like that and I was pretty happy as I trucked up the steep steps of the Pyramid of the Moon. Once at the top Little Aussie and I had a photoshoot with the amazing landscape surrounding us. Then I realized I had to climb back down. I am really scared of heights and the steps were pretty narrow. Climbing down was tedious and I decided I wasn't even going to chance it with the Pyramid of the Sun, which was even higher. I sat sprawled out in a grassy area in its shadow, while Little Aussie headed up. I was nice and relaxed even though I had to shoo away a guy selling something every five seconds and I caught two random men taking my picture. Had they never seen bare legs before??

After awhile I started to get worried--Little Aussie hadn't come back down the mountain and it was nearing the time when we were supposed to meet back up with the tour group. I began to grow concerned. We were separated in a country which wasn't exactly the safest in which neither of us spoke the language. I wandered around growing angrier until we were eventually reunited. My mood was not the best for a bit but it improved after speaking to a cute little Swiss guy who was part of our group on the van ride back to the city. We didn't get a chance to exchange info so if I am meant to see him again I will. Little Aussie and I met OG for a delish dinner of authentic tacos and then watched the Olympics in our room. The next day we went on another tour of the Cathedral outside our hostel and then the National Palace. The tour was entirely too long but I did get to see the famous Rivera murals I had studied in college was pretty effing awesome.

That night we had plans to meet up with one of Russian Rocher's friends--her roommate from Penn, who was also from Mexico City. I had never met him but I figured it would be good to have one more person to take us out. He invited the two of us to a Penn alumni happy hour, so we took a cab that the hostel called us (we were advised not to hail cabs on the street because it was likely they would mug us) to the neighborhood--Colonia Roma. It was quite a difference from the neighborhoods we had seen so far, which looked pretty sketch. It was filled with architecturally interesting buildings and tall palm trees. We were headed to the Hotel Brick and after our driver got lost, finally made it. We walked in and I felt like I was back in New York. It was fancy and hip and Russian Rocher's friend greeted us in perfect English. He led us to a room with fancy apps and a bunch of tooly guys in suits. I could tell Little Aussie was immediately uncomfortable, especially when some of them started asking what we do for a living (she is a bartender at a strip club in Australia..probably not the answer they were expecting). I was eyeing a guy with slicked back hair who looked a lot like Ibanker until I noticed the wedding ring on his finger. Russian Rocher's friend was nice though and we eventually got in with a nice little group and had a competition to see if he could name all the Mexican states and I the US. I made it to 48--stupid Mississippi and Idaho!

It was an interesting evening, observing the wealthy in Mexico City, especially when the country has such a great divide. We really didn't notice many middle-class people at all while we were there; it seemed to be one or the other. And we had even more interesting times ahead of us....to be continued.....

San Fran: I'm Old Gregg!

And so begins my vacation with Little Aussie. And what better way to kick it off then with a classic night of New York binge-drinking. I started with an open bar JM was hosting at a classy little place called Off the Wagon. This hour long open bar turned into me staying for 3 hours. I then met up with Little Aussie at Le Poisson Rouge, to see a dj. The doorman kindly suggested we give him two random names so we did. He checked his list and let us in for free. Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs (yes that's the dj name) was awesome and I was having so much fun that I agreed to go out after with Little Aussie and her promoter friend that she had met while in New York. He took us to one of the standard Meatpacking clubs, where there was bottle service. This is always my downfall and I indulged heavily. I also gave my number to two different guys, both of whom turned out to be promoters and both still text me every weekend with stupid things that I will never do. Once it was 3AM and I was teetering where I stood I decided it was time to head home. Little Aussie stayed out until 6AM, returning back to my apartment as Atl was leaving for work.

I woke up still drunk and much too late--our flight was in a few hours and I hadn't packed a thing. I also decided that I absolutely had to go pick up my laundry and take a shower and do my hair. I was just taking my time and not realizing the magnitude of the situation. We left entirely too late and of course had to wait forever for the subway. I also sat next to an old pimp in a mustard-colored suit the entire ride to JFK and didn't realize it til halfway through. We arrived to check-in with an hour before the flight left. I thought we had plenty of time but apparently the lovely people at Delta thought otherwise. That is, if they had the ability to think and not be the ghetto pieces of shit that they were. For the first time in my life that I missed a flight. They refused to let us on, and then tried to charge us $800 each to get on another one. After I stood there screaming and slamming my wallet against the counter, they relented and agreed to let us on one at 8pm for $50. We were told these seats were guaranteed but after sitting around the airport for 6 hours, we were then told that we probably were not getting on that flight since they had oversold it by 20 people. Somehow we managed to get on, probably because Little Aussie burst into tears. The result of this was a man giving us all of his free drink tickets.

We arrived in San Fran in the middle of the night and after a cab ride from a crazy woman cabbie, had our reunion with Baby J and Byarr, my two beloved members of Team USA. The four of us had all spent a semester in Hamburg together and hadn't all been together since two summers before. It was a good thing we were excited to see each other since we were all in very close quarters together in our private hostel room. This hostel also featured the oldest elevator in the US, and I was convinced we were going to die every time we got in it. The long weekend was glorious and we all picked up right where we left off, cracking up the entire time. Baby J and Little Aussie appropriately took the role of the children, as they constantly flirted and made fun of each other, and Byarr and I were the parents, since they annoyed us. Byarr cracked us up at one point by telling them that they "shan't have their pudding" if they didn't stop misbehaving during dinner. We also quoted a youtube video that Baby J showed us all the entire weekend--Old Gregg. It is the weirdest British skit about a gay swamp creature named Old Greg who loves Baileys.

We packed in the weekend with sightseeing. We ate clam chowder at Fisherman's wharf, had coffee and truffles in North Beach, walked through Chinatown, shopped in Union square, weirdo-watched in Haight Ashbury and rode on one of the streetcars. We also had an awesome photo shoot at the cliffs and the beach in front of the Golden Gate Bridge, where I got to show off my favorite undies:

                                                                Deutschland meets San Fran

We went out at night obviously, to the Mission and a really cool bar called Elbow Room, which played vintage porn. We also went to some other less cool bars, one of which was filled with annoying college kids bro-ing out. We drank a lot of San Fran craft beer, most of which was good, one of which tasted literally like toilet water. Little Aussie and I were concerned about Byarr, who in Germany had the tendency to get pretty out of control. He was relatively tame this trip, except for one night. Baby J and I were exhausted and went back to the room to go to bed after we returned to the hostel. Little Aussie and Byarr wanted to continue the party with some people from the hostel they had met. Little Aussie met another hot Aussie man and was caught up with him. She didn't notice that Byarr had slipped away and walked to another nearby hostel. He walked in, told the guy at the desk he was in room 4B and went to the kitchen where he drank a bunch of beer out of the fridge. He was finally caught when he started removing food, and was escorted out.

We also took a mini-trip while in San Fran, across the bay to Tiburon. Byarr has family in San Fran, an awesomely hilarious aunt and uncle. They have a second home in Tiburon, which is about a half hour ferry ride away. They were having a party that Saturday afternoon, but due to our lack of planning skills we ended up going without having time to change into nice clothes. We showed up looking like slobs and bringing nothing with us. I wouldn't normally care, but this second home was absolutely amazing and was located on one of the cliffs overlooking the bay.

This view is no big deal

His family was very welcoming, serving us food and drinks and entertaining the slovenly lot of us. We enjoyed our short time there until we had to literally run back down the hill in order to catch the last ferry. Little Aussie also entertained ourselves when the boys got fed up with our silly antics. We were wandering Golden Gate Park one afternoon when we spotted an old carousel. We of course had to go on it, like the children that we are. The carousel operator was about to shut down but when he saw us outside, let us on and gave us 3 free rides. The boys sat waiting for almost a half hour as we jumped around this thing "horse hopping" and taking hilarious photos. I'm still mad that that little girl stole the rooster that I really wanted to ride on though.
And finally the last great moment of the trip occurred on our last morning there. We went to a brunch place nearby before starting our day of sightseeing. We ate quite a bit and after the meal I naturally had to take a poop. We had been out the night before and I had tried to avoid using the bathroom in our room. So off I went to take care of business which was successful. Except for when I went to flush. Nothing. I jiggled the handle and still nothing. My specimen was sitting squarely in the toilet and it looked to be not going anywhere. This was the only bathroom in the restaurant and I started to panic that someone was going to be waiting outside. I washed my hands quickly and ran out. I was relieved to see no one was waiting, but as soon as I sat back down the guy at the table across from us got up and headed there. Baby J was trying to ask me something but I was too distracted to think. I had to interrupt him to explain the situation and tell them we needed to leave immediately. The boys were cracking up at my panicked look, as they have never heard me talk about anything like this. I barely noticed as I was hauling ass to the exit but we must have all kept laughing for the next hour.

A perfect way to end a reunion trip with people I don't see very often. The next morning we said our goodbyes as we were all flying off to our respective destinations. But we made plans to meet up again soon in Denver, which is where Byarr lives. And next stop for Little Aussie and I--Mexico City. To be continued....

"Holy Shit, There's a Hipster in my Bed!"

So now begins the epic 2 and a half weeks with my little Aussie Friend. We had studied abroad together in Germany a couple years ago and now she was doing her tour of the US. She had been in LA with our friend Baby J for a couple of weeks, traveling the West Coast, and now she was headed East. She was going to be staying with me for a week in New York before we headed off to our travels--meeting up with Baby J in San Fran and then off to Mexico City (that's right) to see another Germany friend. The Grand Tour.

I hadn't seen Little Aussie since she met me in Strasbourg for an emergency weekend away from where I was staying with that awful Swiss guy. I had been kind of a mess at that time so I wanted her to see me normal and happy. Or as normal as things can be in New York. So come the weekend, we were going out. Friday night we were headed to Williamsburg, to see a dj from LCD Soundsystem at Brooklyn Bowl. I figured this wouldn't be a neighborhood she would venture to on her own and it's fun to see. I had invited my guy friend from work as well, which would be the first time we had hung out outside of a work setting, but he claimed to like LCD Soundsystem. He met us and I was surprised to see that instead of a dj, they were playing a video of an LCD Soundsystem concert on a giant screen, with a bunch of people dancing to it. Little Aussie got a kick out of it but I couldn't help thinking this was a crock. But once Little Aussie treated us all to shots of Cafe Patron I determined that this was actually fun and cool. Work Friend and I were standing next to each other, both checking our phones, when a short, tubby girl behind us tapped us and said "Umm if you guys aren't going to watch, could you move??". Our reaction was perfectly executed--we both turned around, looked at her, and turned back to our phones without moving. She then huffed away and we cracked up.

Unfortunately, after a couple more drinks, shit started to get weird, as it always does at Brooklyn Bowl. Work Friend was getting closer to me as he talked and he let it slip that he didn't even really know LCD Soundsystem. He kept putting his arm around my waist. I was tensed up and trying to move away and he said "We work together, is this weird?" and I answered flatly--"Yes". A few minutes later he went to the bathroom and never came back. I received a text an hour or so later saying he was too drunk and had to go home. I see. I like Work Friend, for who he is--a friend at work, so there will be none of that.

You would think after that I would be out of the woods, but no no. I had somehow started texting with a guy I had a fling with in college. He moved away from NYC just when I moved here but now he was moving back for grad school. He was studying Creative Writing and was a total pompous dick. He had been sweet when I first met him at the end of my freshman year, sweet enough to cheat on my boyfriend with. He secretly talked throughout Sophomore year and when I went on a break with this boyfriend, we started a short fling, which ended when I got back together with my boyfriend. We hadn't talked much since and I hadn't seen him since literally 2005. So obviously he came to meet me at Brooklyn Bowl, when it was determined that he was in Williamsburg as well. I didn't know if I really wanted to see him but I was too drunk to determine much of anything at that point and was busy dancing to the dj who had actually gone on. He showed up and looked exactly the same, except bald. We had a few conversations I don't remember, while Little Aussie made fun of him secretly. When it was time for us to leave Little Aussie told me I had to get rid of him. I made up some story about where we were going and he grabbed me on the middle of the sidewalk and started to make out with me. Whoa dude, this may have been cool 7 years ago but it was not the case now. I endured it for a second, then said I would talk to him later and scampered away with Little Aussie, to head back to Manhattan.

Once there we found Atl, drunk as well. She had gone out with her friend who was visiting from Charlotte and it sounded like they had a better night than we did. She was also texting her secret New York love, Kevin, who mostly ignored her. She had made a breakthrough though and had actually gotten him to agree to come over. She ushered us into my room where I received communication from my elusive guy in New York as well--the Playboy. He had popped up out of nowhere and was texting me to come to his place at 5am. No way sir, not anymore. I responded saying he should come to my place, never thinking that he actually would. He must have been real desperate, because he agreed almost immediately, hopped in a cab and was on Avenue C 20 minutes later. I couldn't believe it. Little Aussie crawled into her bed on the couch, leaving the Playboy and me in my room together. We had a steamy makeout sess, but unfortunately for him, I still wasn't giving it up since he had put in zero effort for it. And good move, because like a true gentleman, he snuck out and left soon after I fell asleep. Fucking Playboy.

In the morning we all slept til an absurd hour and then rehashed the night before with Atl screaming "KEEEEVIN" intermittently throughout the conversation. Little Aussie and I headed to the Gugg for the afternoon returning later to nap and get ready for our second night out. We both had doubts on if we could make it, but Atl insisted that we had to meet up with her and her friend after they went to dinner. So I took Little Aussie to the Back Room, thinking it was good spot to show a friend visiting. Everyone else apparently thought so too and it was packed with foreign tourists. Despite how much I liked the speakeasy vibe and the drinks served in teacups, this place was played out. Luckily after wandering the LES for a bit, Atl summoned us to meet them at a bar in Chelsea. We arrived to find it empty and we sat trying to figure out our next move (after a round of Cafe Patron shots of course). We even debated going to a strip club that High School had invited us too, which Little Aussie was very excited about. But Atl's friend had invited one of her New York friends to meet her and suddenly a group of 8 guys was trucking into the bar to meet us. The night suddenly brightened.

They surprisingly nixed the strip club and we split up to take cabs to Bowery Electric. The cute hipster I had been talking to at the bar was sitting next to me and we continued to chat. Things were rowdy at B.E. and after Atl got screamed at by a bouncer for trying to cut in the bathroom line she pulled an Irish Exit and apparently got a ride home with a stranger. The rest of us were none the wiser and had a dance party among ourselves where lots of incriminating photos were taken. After awhile the group disbanded but I was not finished with our night so I dragged Little Aussie, Atl's friend, the cute hipster and his friend to the Wren. My memories of this are a little foggy but I know I sat and chatted with the hipster, apparently pulling all of this knowledge out of my ass about the craft beers they were serving and remembering none of it. I know I also got pissed when a creepy dude who had been talking to Little Aussie followed us to the Wren and then followed us out when we left. The creepiness had to stop and luckily hipster's friend told him he had to leave.

It was past last call at this point but when a random drunk dude approached us on the street and asked the hipster and me if we wanted to go somewhere for after-hours with him, we agreed. Why? We followed him and I thought we were all going to a party when he stopped in front of a dark building to make a call. Little Aussie and Atl's friend were yelling about something and dancing in the street when the door mysteriously opened and we were ushered into a dark entryway. The doorman slammed the door behind us, turned and began to scream at us that we needed to shut the fuck up and act classy when we came here. We all stood frozen, not really sure what to do. I wasn't about to try and get past this guy to leave now so we followed the drunk guy upstairs to a tiny bar. This was apparently called the KGB Bar and was in fact filled with old Russians, as well as some normal looking people. We were all a little unnerved about getting screamed at and the whole situation in general, so we drank our beers quietly in a corner. Little Aussie began to chat with the guys next to her about acting, but once we finished our drinks we decided it was time to get out of this creepy place. We all got up and filed out, one of us accidentally knocking over a bottle on our way. We rushed outside, glad that we had lived through that.

We were very close to my apartment and Cute Hipster and his friend followed us back. I was wondering wtf they were doing but I didn't say anything. We started to all have another drink in my living room when the move was made. Cute Hipster asked if he could see my room and it was all over. I agreed and a couple minutes later my door closed. We had officially left the party. I woke up in the morning, turned over and had a slight shock--"Holy shit, there's a hipster in my bed!" was my first thought. And hipster he was--nerd glasses, vans and a sassy attitude. He also used to live in San Francisco and was a Kindergarten teacher. Another unexpected fact-- he also had the biggest man part I have ever seen. I had refused to let it near me though, as is my MO lately--refusing to sleep with these guys. When I couldn't find my glasses, he told me that he had thrown them out the window because I wouldn't have sex with him. He was kind of an asshole but I did like his sense of humor.

We actually ended up going on a date a couple nights later. We walked the High Line and ate popsicles and chatted and I had quickly developed a crush on this cute little hipster. I was even willing to overlook the fact that he skateboards! But alas, I left for my trip a few days later. He texted me once during it, but when I returned he totally blew me off and I never heard from him again. I was disappointed, as I had already imagined the fun hipster outfits I could wear when we dated, but really could I have a future with someone who skateboarded to yoga class? So, in the words of Little Aussie, I never did find out if I "could take his huge wang".

"That one doesn't like to work"

After my terrible return to New York City, I was able to leave again but not for anything fun. I was relieved. The last thing I needed in my life was more fun. I had about 2 weeks of work trips for conferences--the first to Chicago and the second in Boston. I had never been able to travel for work before and I felt very professional, despite how I act on weekends. So a couple days later, I had to forsake going out on a Friday night so that I could catch a 7am flight the next morning. I had been to Chicago once before a couple years ago for St. Patrick's Day. Except I didn't get to see much of the city, since my friend BK and I had drank too much cheap gin the second night there and couldn't drag ourselves out of bed for the festivities since we were too busy puking. This trip proved to be the exact opposite. I did nothing but work for four days and at night holed myself up in my hotel room, reading or eating room service in my bathing suit. I went out to dinner one night with my boss and her hilarious gay friend but that was pretty much the only socializing I did, aside from the last night.
I was ready to be out in the world again and eager to see some of the city, since our hotel was in an area with nothing else around it. So I decided to go out with Chi Friend. He was the only person I knew in Chicago and knew was a loose term. He was the guy I had met a couple months earlier at JM's friend's apartment in Williamsburg. I didn't actually expect to hang out with him but we had exchanged a couple messages on facebook and I was ready to have anyone show me around really.
He gave me instructions on how to get to the Wicker Park neighborhood on the El train, so I of course hopped in a cab and expensed the whole thing. It was a bit strange basically meeting a complete stranger but I just started to blab about god knows what as we walked to a nearby bar. We sat outside on the patio at my insistence, even though it was roughly 255 degrees outside. We chatted about things, such as how he wants to move to New York and the different neighborhoods of Chicago. He was a total hipster and we were apparently in a pretty hipster area, and about to migrate to a complete hipster neighborhood, when we took the train up to Logan Square. We walked to a brewery/bar he had talked about and I felt like I was back in Bushwick. I definitely stood out in my green sundress and Michael Kors sandals but I had had a few beers and did not give a shit. All of the beer taps at this place were different colored fists and I was having a hard time deciding which to get. As I made an assessment I said to him "I bet the black one is really dark beer". He looked relieved and said "I thought you were about to say something bad like 'I bet the black one doesn't like to work a lot'". I then died and decided that this guy was awesome in my book. We then opened up and exchanged some more personal stories. My favorite from him was how he went home with a girl his first week in Chicago when he was really wasted. She had to leave for class (yes class) the next morning so after she was gone he threw up all over her room. After he had cleaned it up he got lost on the subway going home. When he finally figured out his way, he had to get off the train and walk the rest of the way home because he was too sick. He started to cry and then threw up on the sidewalk before stumbling into his apartment. Classic.
Our final stop was a bar where you got a free pizza with a beer, much like Crocodile Lounge in NYC, but much nicer. I was pretty drunk at this point, laughing loudly at everything and having a grand old time. He didn't seem to mind but I had my guard up in case he tried to take me home. After beer/pizza we both decided to split the Jameson ice cream, which was so strong that I needed to chase each bite with water. Probably the last thing I needed before my early flight back to New York the next morning. Because of this I had to call it a night early, which may have saved me. Luckily he didn't try any moves and I'm sure he had his own agenda since he knew I had to go back early. I found out a couple months later that he is kind of a player and a liar (he claimed that night he had only done coke once but he was apparently a cokehead back in the day, he also said he barely knew JM's friend but they had grown up together in Michigan) but he showed me a good time that night, so water under the bridge.
I spent the next day flying back to New York and then doing my laundry at home. I had one day at work and then the next day we were leaving for our conference in Boston. My one day back at work turned out to be pretty much a joke. We worked for half the day and then it was time for the annual Sales and Marketing Department boat outing. That's right, a sailing trip on the Hudson River. I was pumped. Unfortunately my boss and coworker absolutely love to just work work work because they both have husbands that are never around and weren't as excited as me for the boat trip. In fact we almost didn't go because they thought that we have too much work in between the conferences. I was appalled but luckily it was mandatory and we all had to go. So off to the sailboat we went, in company polos that we were forced to wear that made us look like Best Buy employees. We set sail on the boat and I slowly started to get nauseous. FML. All I wanted was this boat trip and now I felt like I was going to vom in front of everyone. And I was stuck on the crappy side of the boat with the weirdos from Data Processing. They soon got into a heated discussion about whether aliens were real and I took that as my cue to teeter carefully to the other side of the boat where cooler people were sitting. I plopped down next to my Work Friend and concentrated on not vomming for the rest of the ride.
Luckily there was food and drinks waiting for us all at the Frying Pan when we disembarked and I immediately felt better. We had our own private section of this boat bar and we weren't there 15 minutes when the Sales team decided to start an impromptu flip cup game. I was pleased as we all know I love flip cup, but I knew I couldn't get too out of control since this was a work function. We played a few rounds, and I was awesome, as I always am. This surprised a lot of people since I tend to be very quiet in the workplace and not reveal my real personality. I'm sure the whole Sales department thinks I am a huge nerd, or at least did until my flip cup victories. There was another company work function at the other end of the boat bar also playing flip cup and they challenged us to a game. I was one of the ones selected for the "dream team" due to my skill and we beat them easily. Apparently my big boss was very impressed with my performance and I later caught two of the Sales guys impersonating me playing--they would flip the cup on the first try and then yell out different library terms like "proximity operator" and "boolean searching" and smack the table.
There was a small break and that is when I spotted him--my old roommate. There was another private party at the front of the bar, filled with a bunch of weirdos and he was actually part of it. He looked like a ginger Michael Moore wearing a baseball cap and a blazer. His red hair had gotten longer and he had chunked out big time but it was definitely him. I'm sure he must have spotted me as well but we didn't say a word to each other. The last time I had seen him was the summer before, exactly a year ago, when I had thrown my keys at his face and left that godforsaken living situation for good. So we weren't exactly on good terms but true to creeper form, I had recently discovered him creeping my Linkedin profile. It was jarring to see him out,  as bad as seeing an ex, but it made me feel better to think how far I had come since escaping him. I was now working a real person job and going out drinking with coworkers, just like everyone else in New York.

Flip cup had resumed and this time my boss and big boss joined in. Things were getting rowdy and beer was everywhere. My Work Friend would scream "That was money!" every time the big boss flipped the cup and my actual boss was pretty wasted. So wasted in fact that at one point she screamed "You trash-talking mother fucker!" to the big boss. I got to witness that and also bond with most of the Sales team, who I hadn't really known before. And since we were leaving for Boston, I didn't have to face any of them at work the next day!