California Trip: Honey Badger Beer!

My time in SoCal was winding down quickly, so we decided it was essential that we fit in a day trip to San Diego before I headed back East. We had drunkenly invited Summer Boo to come with the night before, but I decided there was no way that could happen, so I made up a little white lie and told him we had slept too late and decided not to go. Oops. I like to think that I spared him from another day of being on the outside of multiple inside jokes--really I did him a favor. With that solved, we took off for the drive and I took in some more spectac Souther California scenery. San Diego was of course nice, but not what I expected. For one, it was absolutely filled to the brim with homeless people. It seemed like every other person we saw was an insane derelict person. My favorite was a shirtless man who parked his shopping cart filled with shit in front of a restaurant. He stood on top of a fire hydrant, waving his arms to the music which blared from his boombox, circa 1991. The city was also very military, which may sound snobby of me, but just ain't my bag, if you know what I mean. Now granted we did just stick to the downtown area, since this was a quick trip, so that could have swayed my opinion of the city. And yes it was a Thursday afternoon, but the area seemed dead. I have officially become the snobby New Yorker who thinks every other place but New York is "cute" but just can't compare.
The silver lining to San Diego (which in case you don't know, means "a whale's vagina"--there's an oldschool one we brought back for the day!) was the the strip of bars, more specifically one called the Tipsy Crow. It has the same idea as the Exchange Bar in NYC, where the drink prices fluctuate based on their demand and you can see the changes on a tv screen which looks like the stock market (this is all very official). But what the Exchange does not have, nor does any other bar that I have seen in New York, is Honey Badger beer. Yes you heard correctly.

The best part was, when I went to upload this pic onto facebook, the little tag square appeared around his ugly little face and asked me "who is this?".
We of course ordered this nectar of the gods, and it tasted pretty meaty (with just a hint of snake). This was the perfect ending to our quick, touristy trip to San Diego--we had to get back to the OC, where we had plans to of course, see a dj that night. The dj I speak of--Wolfgang Gartner, whom I had never seen. He was playing at the Yost in Santa Ana, where I had of course never been. We showered quickly back at Baby J's igloo house and housed down some gyros we had picked up on the drive back. Then we set back off, into the fog which had quickly come out of nowhere. It made for a mysterious drive and was just a strange feeling for my last night out of 2011 (Dec. 30 would be spent on my red-eye flight back to NYC).

The venue was pretty amazing, with a good view from anywhere. Drinks were cheap and it wasn't too packed. It was the exact opposite of godforsaken Pacha. The crowd was much better as well, except for the scary packs of mean-looking Vietnamese which I tried to avoid. Wolfgang was amazing and Baby J and I decided that I should try and marry him, to make my dream of being an International Party Girl come true. He also protected me from a creeper-one had apparently come up behind me to dance without me noticing. Baby J informed me that I had "a visitor" before pulling me away from him. The three of us danced and drank the night away, just like our old times in Hamburg. It was so good to be back with them and we couldn't bear to think about what was coming up in a few hours--Aussie's departure. She had an early flight for her South America tour the next morning but in order to avoid being stuck in traffic for hours, we had to get up at the crack of dawn, literally, to drive her to LAX. By the time we left Wolfie and got back to Baby J's we got an hour and a half of sleep before the evacuation alarm went off and we were back on the road. Even Cookies with a Smile couldn't improve our mood. It was a slightly tearful goodbye but we knew we would be reunited when the time came for our Australia trip.

Baby J and I went back and slept for a few more hours before we headed to a different part of Long Beach for crepes. We then drove back down the Pacific Coast Highway where we spent the afternoon sitting on the beach and walking on cliffs. We then went to meet his sister and some of her friends for happy hour drinks. Someone had chosen it to take place at a strange wine bar filled with olds. There was an old man making out with a much younger woman, with quite the muffin top, in the corner. But that would not be the best/worst of our entertainment for the evening. There was a group of middle-aged people, a couple and another woman with a dog, dancing along to the saxophone player. They looked like they had come straight of the Real Housewives of Orange County, plastic surgery and all. And waaaasted. Absolutely shit-faced. The couple was trying to dance around but were stumbling all over the place. The man let out a couple of extremely loud woots before heading back to his seat and promptly falling asleep. An old man sitting next to them tried to pet their dog, but it snarled at him and started barking. This woke the wasted man up and he shoved the dog in the carrier and dropped it on the floor. The couple then got up to dance again, but were basically standing in one spot trying to hold each other up. Meanwhile, the group of us watched all this in horror as their rounds of martinis kept coming. Who decided it was a good idea to keep serving these people?? But the crowning moment came, when after the couple had given up on dancing and returned to their seats, the woman suddenly leaned over and puked on the floor. Keep in mind this is seven o'clock at night. They then grabbed their keys and headed out. It is likely they are dead, which may not be a bad thing. But they did provide some winning entertainment for my last few hours in Cali. Not long after they left, we headed out as well, as Baby J had to drive me to John Wayne airport (makes me chuckle) for my flight back to NYC. Another sad airport goodbye. But a fabulous trip and a glorious reunion with my Hamburg besties!

California Trip: My Fiance

After our failed attempt at In n Out the night before, we awoke early the next morning to the sound of Baby J's intense alarm clock. Aussie and I almost jumped out of bed thinking an evacuation was taking place. We hopped back in the truck, listening to MSTRKRFT (I mistakenly thought it was pronounced Mr. Kraft), and drove down the Pacific Coast Highway. We stopped in Huntington Beach (Baby J's hometown) to check out the surfers, where Aussie had the best photobomb ever, and then headed down to Laguna.

I had bragged for weeks before the trip that I was going to swim in the Pacific, despite the witch tit cold temperatures. Now the time had come for me to eat my words. After changing into Baby J's wetsuit, I tentatively stepped into the water. I immediately regretted all my bragging--my uncovered feet were in so much pain that I almost fell over. There was no turning back though, as I knew Baby J and Aussie would not allow it. They laughed from the beach, as I descended into the water, while throwing bits of gross seaweed out of my way. I finally made it in and swam around for about 3 minutes before I ran back out. I did it, I conquered the Pacific!

After we went around to a cove and climbed on the rocks. It was probably one of the prettiest places I have ever seen, once again. After I unpeeled my wetsuit and changed, we headed into town for some Mexican food. This is where the fiance enters--Baby J and Aussie's nickname for Summer Boo. I had made arrangements with him when I was home for Thanksgiving to meet up in Cali, since his parents had moved to Laguna. We had gotten along really well the last time we had hung out, which we sometimes do. Unfortunately, this was not one of those times. He was a bit awkward and probably really overwhelmed with the three of us sqwaking about our inside jokes and forcing him to listen to Cookies With a Smile. He stuck around though and tried his best. The group of us went up to a scenic overlook way up in the mountains, with a view of the ocean, where I took some phenomenal shots such as this shiz:

Once again, magical.

Next stop was a little sidetrip to Balboa Island, which is one of the most surreal places I have ever been. We took a ferry across a small channel to a tiny island, filled mostly with old carnival rides and retirees. We of course headed straight for the bar for happy hour after ruling out the ferris wheel, which seemed to be going freakishly fast. The final activity Summer Boo endured with us was going out for a night on the town back in Long Beach. He volunteered to drive, which was a huge mistake on his part. Our first stop was downtown Long Beach, to an empty wine bar which smelled like vomit. Our second try, brought us back to the bar we had been the day before. We sat awkwardly and Aussie tried to ask Baby J if he went to this bar a lot, but of course used the phrase "Do you come here often?", which sounded like a terrible pickup line. The three of us cracked up over that, while Summer Boo ordered apps. I ate most of them and made the keen observation that one of the sauces for the french fries "tasted like Thai"--the three of them apparently looked at me in confusion and wisely chose not to acknowledge that statement. Finally plans came together, and we were off to meet one of Baby J's friends in a different part of Long Beach (thanks for driving Summer Boo). On the walk to the car, I let out the biggest burp known to mankind and impressed everyone around us. Such classy behavior for California. We made it to a bar which was somehow filled with hipsters--we debated whether a bearded one in the corner was actually homeless. Feeling like I was back in Brooklyn I felt right at home and proceeded to try and have a good time with my friends. Summer Boo held back, apparently out of things to talk about. Awwwkward. Luckily we were soon able to witness Baby J and Baby Friend, play pool against two older, burly punk rock dudes (so California). The Babies lost terribly, even though the old punk rockers let them cheat. By the end of the night they were good buddies and I was a little afraid that they were going to hop in the car with us. Luckily they did not. Poor Summer Boo drove us all home, while listening us scream a voicemail to our crazy friend (member #3 of Team USA) about how much fun he was missing (the next day he irritatedly called me and referred to Baby J as a "baby bastard"). A successful night out for us, not so much for Summer Boo. I guess Baby J and Aussie won't be guests at our wedding after all. To be continued...

California Trip: Sweet Jacket

I had been looking forward to this trip for months. I had somehow never been to California and I was due. It was also going to be a magical reunion with friends I had made in Germany. My roommate, Aussie, was one of my best girl friends while I was there. She was hilarious and we would at times have laughing fits over nothing that would last for way too long. She was en route for a grand South America tour and she had arranged for a week long layover in LA. This was especially convenient since this is where Baby J lives. Baby J, was my other very good friend in Germany. He was a fellow American and the two of us, along with our other crazy friend, formed Team USA (he would wear the fictional blue jumpsuit and I, the white). He is much younger than me, but since neither of us act our age it is a perfect recipe for us to be friends.
My flight to LA was leaving very early in the morning the day after Christmas, so I was forced to take an overnight bus trip back to New York from Syracuse. I left the Christmas coziness and my family behind and rode the bus for 5 hours where I got right on the subway to go to JFK. Once settled on the train, I looked around and realized that I was the only person, who was not a sleeping homeless person. That explained the pungent smell. I tightened my grip on my bags and decided I was too tired to change trains, unless one of them bothered me (they didn't, though two did go in between the cars to pee at one point). The only perk of arriving to the airport at 4AM was the easiest check-in I have ever had. I napped at the gate until it was time to leave (on time!), boarded the plane, and proceeded to nap until we landed in LAX.
The weather outside was glorious and I hadn't seen a sky that blue in roughly 4 months. The sun was so bright that I was squinting for the first half hour I was there. The reunion with Baby J and Aussie was magical, and we picked up right where we had left off, just like I had with the Mexican when he visited NYC. The three of us squeezed into Baby J's little truck and went to get some food in Manhattan Beach, which was the exact opposite of Manhattan and in a wonderful way. It was a delightful little town right on the beach and this is when I fell in love with the scenery of Southern California. Having grown up in one of the ugliest places in the country (Syracuse, NY), I could not even believe how people would take something like this for granted.
The three of us caught up and discussed people we had been abroad with in Germany. Baby J had recently had the 3rd member of Team USA stay with him for a month while he "looked" for a job--which basically entailed partying every night, eating all of his roommates' food, and drinking 40s on Baby J's porch, so he could act like he was "really in Long Beach". Speaking of which, we hadn't gone there yet, so after swinging by Baby J's apartment to drop off our shiz and shower, we headed to the harbor to check out a giant cruise ship which was docked there. Except it cost $18 to go on board and we all said "fuck that shit". Instead Baby J decided to try a different approach. This boat was also a hotel, so he waltzed up to the doorman and informed him that "our mom had our key'. The doorman suspiciously asked what color it was, and Aussie and I were laughing too hard to play along, so Baby J gave up on this. We headed into downtown Long Beach instead and of course ended up at a bar, Baby J's fav. It was pretty awesome but I obliviously ordered one of the strongest beers on tap and since I hadn't eaten in a few hours I was slightly tipsy pretty quickly. Aussie and Baby J were amused by this, and also my accidental pseudo-racist comment, "that's a black school" and my almost constant (but silent!) burping. What a delight, I am.
The thing about California which surprised me was the drastic drop in temperature at night. I should've figured, it being a desert and all, but I was ill-prepared for these temperatures and the lack of heat in Baby J's freezing cold house. While he and Aussie, cooked dinner, I huddled under a pile of blankets. After his friend met us and we all headed to the hookah bar a few blocks away. At this point Aussie and I were getting delirious from lack of sleep and this is where the chain laughter really got out of control. The chain laughter is as follows: Aussie thinks Baby J's laugh is hilarious, so when he really starts laughing this causes her to really start laughing. I come in because I laugh at Aussie trying to keep it together but failing. Of course this all makes us laugh harder and it's a vicious cycle. I don't know what exactly started the chain this time, but I do remember, through a hookah haze, all of us laughing at a snarky comment I made--a girl next to us informed her friends to not think she was rich and my response under my breath was "don't worry we didn't". The silliness continued back at Baby J's. Apparently he and Aussie had devised a plan earlier in the day to scare me with this spiky dog chew toy. While we were falling asleep, Aussie got very close to me and casually tossed it onto me. When I felt its weirdness I screamed and threw it away from me, where it landed smack on Baby J's neck. There is no way that would've happened if I had tried.
After catching up on sleep, the next day we were headed to the Getty, per my request. On the drive from Long Beach to LA, I experienced an infamous traffic jam, which wasn't any worse than I expected. That is until we got to the Getty. We had unknowingly come on a free day and apparently every person in Southern California was taking advantage. It took us forever to get inside, but it was worth it for the views. We took many pictures, courtesy of Asian tourists, whom Aussie asked because "they take millions of pictures anyway". Next it was on to Hollywood where we had dinner at a sushi place. We ordered beers and Baby J informed me that he was surprised because he thought I "would be drunk the entire time". Apparently my reputation from Hamburg precedes me.
We were going out on the town that night but the only problem was, we weren't sure where. I had been contacted by a bartender I had made out with in New Orleans who had moved to LA. He saw I was in town and wanted to meet up. That is, until his "girlfriend came home from vacation early" (yes he actually admitted that). To make up for this, I had him send us a list of places we could go. The first was a dive-y bar with a lot of hipsters. We had a drink then decided to head to the next place on the list. But first we took a detour through Beverly Hills, each selecting our multiple mansions. To make it even better Baby J had some ridiculous songs on his ipod--Cookies with a Smile (chunky!) and Call me Up (Chromeo!) became our anthems for the week. Another notable moment during our California cruising was when we were stopped at light. A guy in an oversized, horsehair, cowprint jacket swaggered across the street. Right on cue, Aussie states "sweet jacket" and all three of us lost for the next 15-20 minutes. We finally reached our destination which was the Library Bar, in the lobby of the Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard. It was tiny, with no menu, just bowls of fruit and herbs on the bar. I requested some sort of whiskey drink from the bartender and was giving something delicious with fresh blackberries. Aussie requested vodka and was subsequently given a gin drink. It was then that the oldie sitting next to me asked if I liked my drink but could go no further because of Aussie and Baby J's laughter--they had been watching him try to make a move the entire time we were standing there.
After our delish drinks it was on to our next stop. We walked down the seediness of Hollywood Boulevard to discover that it was hardcore punk night at this particular bar. We immediately ruled that out. Luckily, thanks to Baby J's eagle eye, he noticed a bouncer standing next to an unmarked door nearby. Upon entering we discovered a pretty cool bar--they had good music, and a good scene, minus a few hipsters here and there. Though I kick myself--I spotted a hot one eyeing me and looked quickly away instead of taking advantage. I'm always terrible with stuff like that and probably have missed out on more than a few opportunities. We ended the night with a long, slightly drunken trek, in search of infamous In 'n Out. I had heard it rivaled Shake Shack and I was eager to try. We finally arrived at 2:05 AM to discover that it had closed at 2 AM. I was so angry that I almost kicked the door in. Dejected, we headed back to Long Beach. To be continued....

Date Tour of New York City

So I've been in New York exactly a year, and WHAT a year it has been. I've been on more dates than I've ever been on in my life, some good, some bad...mostly bad. When friends come to visit me in New York I find myself pointing out places where I've been with some of these gems. I jokingly nicknamed it my "Date Tour of New York" but this seems like the perfect time to document it. Now I obviously can't remember all the places I've gone with these assholes throughout 2011, nor were all of them that memorable. But I've selected most of the good ones and put them together in a list which starts in Brooklyn and circles around different neighborhoods in Manhattan. There are many stops and I've included the main jist from each one. Let's retrace my steps, shall we?
(Please Note: This tour should take roughly 2-18 hours. Statue of Liberty foam hat must be worn and bev of choice must be in hand at all times).

Stop 1: The Shwick
My Apartment: Mason, Benny and Bawseton have all spent time here--some innocent, some not...

Pearl's Social and Billy Club: hipster bar where Mason and I went after carving Joel Zimmerman the pumpkin

Stop 2: Williamsburg
Union Pool: location of ridiculous band (the Half Faggots) which Mason and I somehow ended up seeing and getting stared down by hipsters, also where I drunkenly accompanied the One Handed Stalker after Santacon

Brooklyn Bowl/The Cove: bars visited with Cute Guy on the infamous night when I met him...I later puked in his kitchen sink

Stop 3: Union Square Area
Coffee Shop, 15th st and 5th ave: trendy brunch place where I met Ibanker, after coming directly from Cute Guy's, where I had puked in the kitchen sink then hooked up with him

Ibanker's apartment: floor to ceiling windows, room always a mess. Spent many nights and hungover mornings

Lillie's, 17th st and 5th ave: bar where I had at least 3 outings with Ibanker, usually before heading back to his place

Raine's Law Room, 17th st and 5th ave: speakeasy, double date with Ibanker, his crazed manchild roommate and his date. Ibanker had had waaay too much to drink that night

Stop 4: Flatiron
Flatiron Lounge, 19th st and 5th ave: bar with fancy drinks, double date with Baweston, Charlie Kelly and AD, free whiskey shots

Hill Country, 26th st and 6th ave: group outing with Ibanker and co. Drinking all day and mediocre bbq quickly made me sick

Stop 5: Gramercy
Inoteca, 24th st and 3rd ave: wine bar, awkward date with Lace, he was rude to the waiter

Madison Square Park, Shake Shack: Mason and I got food here, Godddd we were so fucking cute

Stop 6: Murray Hill

Cute Guy's apartment: don't throw up!

Le Parisien, 33rd and Lex: cute French place where Cute Guy and I enjoyed a morning after brunch

Stop 7: Midtown

Heartland Brewery, Empire State Building: chain restaurant on the bottom floor, Cute Guy and my last ever outing before the shit hit the fan

MoMA, 43rd st and 5th ave: Mason and I sat in the sculpture garden on our first date

Stop 8: Upper East Side
the Gugg, 89th st and 5th ave: brought Ibanker here as my date to an exhibit opening--he was on his Blackberry the entire time. Also took Mason as my date to the crappy MGMT show

Stop 9: Spanish Harlem, Mason's new apartment

Stop 10: Central Park, scene of makeout session with Tooly

Stop 11: Hell's Kitchen
Mason's old apartment: Who wants to play beer pong??

Valhalla, 53rd st and 9th ave: dranks with Mason after we purchased Joel Zimmerman the pumpkin and got caught in the rain

Empanada Mama, 51st st and 9th ave: late night food with Mason, also sight of our awkward date

Pacha, 46th st and 11th ave: worst club in New York, Fatboy Slim show with Benny, RIP phone

Stop 12: Times Square

Point Break, 45th st and 5th ave: where I met Ibanker for St. Patrick's Day--he wore a green tie, I wore green underwear

Unidentified Empy Warehouse: white t-shirt party with Ibanker. I almost lost my coat (and my dignity)

Stop 13: Meatpacking
Buddakan, 15th st and 9th ave: trendy asian fusion restaurant where Ibanker took me on our first date in nyc. also featured in the Sex and the City movie--Carrie and Big's rehearsel dinner

1 Oak, 17th st and 9th ave: fancy club where we were VIP. I chatted with the Eagle the whole night then made out with the hot Irish coworker

Stop 14: the West Village
Hudson Clearwater, Hudson and Barrow st: double date with Ibanker and his college friends. I gave my number to a guy before entering.

Ibanker's apartment: 2 bedrooms, just for him, in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the city. Located across the street from where the outside of Carrie Bradshaw's brownstone was filmed in Sex and the City (no sex here!)

Wilfie & Nell, West 4th st and 7th ave: Ibanker's new neighborhood bar, which I have since avoided

Automatic Slims, Washington and Bank: couple of trips with Ibanker, filled with people exactly like him

Stop 15: Greenwich Village
Back Fence, Sullivan and Bleecker st: went to with Ibanker and a bunch of ibanking coworkers. Hay on the floor and guy singing cover songs. They loved it, I did not and showed it

Stop 16: Soho/Nolita
Penthouse party, Lafayette st: invited Mason over for Polish Princess' bday. We cuddled on the scaffolding outside, with a view of the city. Also chatted with Lace in the room filled with computers.

The Room, Sullivan and Prince st: wine bar where I had a drunken "date" with Coffee. Told him I didn't know "how I got so classy". Also date with Mason

Fiat, Mott and Spring st: tiny Italian place where Mason and I had dinner before the Room. We went motherfucking Dutch, as usual

Spring Lounge, Spring and Mulberry st: Ibanker's other favorite bar. Met him here multiple times, one of which John Mayer was also there

Dos Caminos, Broadway and Grand: unknowingly went on a date with the Guid. Wasn't bad til he kissed me

New Museum, Prince and Bowery: Mason and I went down a giant slide

Stop 17: the East Village
Indian place: Cute Guy and I enjoyed din here one night

Thai place/13th Step: Tuesday night cheap date, courtesy of Deux

Deux and Yahtzee's apartment: mistakenly spent the night and had to fight off Deux the Attacker

PDT, St Marks and Ave A: speakeasy through the telephone booth in the hot dog stand. Coffee took me on a "date"--I ate my weight in gourmet tater tots.

Penny Farthing, 12th st and 3rd ave: Mason and I went here before our first kiss. At the time, things seemed to be looking up with us....

So there you have it. My most memorable dates of 2011. Not bad for my first year in New York.

A Very Dapper Weekend?

AD was in town this weekend so that meant a reunion with Charlie Kelly and...Bawseton, which I had been anxiously awaiting. As a review, Bawseton was the crazy, yet hilarious drug-loving cute guy who had spent an innocent night in my bed over Deadmau5 weekend, a couple months before. We hadn't spoken much but I was excited to see what antics he and Charlie Kelly would get themselves into. The three of them were staying at a hotel near Murray Hill, because Charlie Kelly's apartment had suffered severe water damage as a result of inadequate repair men. I met them there and was informed by AD that Bawseton would be coming outside to let me in. We hugged and the first thing he said to me was:
"We were just reading your blog".
I paused and in disbelief asked "You were??"
"Yea, it's really well-written."
Mortified, I practically yelled "Oh god, you weren't supposed to see that!"

It turns out AD had wanted to show them a snippet from the entry "Deadmau5 Weekend Part 2", chronicling our ridiculous dubstep experience at Webster Hall. She brought it up on her phone but Bawseton snatched it away. We aren't sure how much he read, but he was likely not impressed with the way I had portrayed him (even though it's pretty accurate). So would Bawseton and I be extending our 16 hour romance? Def not.

Once in the hotel room, I was greeted by two more of Bawseton/Charlie Kelly's friends (one of whom turned out to be Lily Pulitzer's nephew), and a plethora of alcoholic bevs. I had come from a work happy hour, followed by more drinks with Russian Rocher, so needless to say the night escalated quickly. We were heading down to the Rusty Knot to meet up with more of their friends but once we arrived they were leaving. A group of us wandered around the West Village for what seemed like forever. I was getting grumpy and demanded that I needed to pee. They wanted to try and go to Little Branch (not going to happen with a group of 15 people, since the bar holds about that many people) so we ended up at one the guy's apartments. It turns out he was Charlie Kelly's drug dealer, so you know what was going on behind the closed doors. AD and I amused ourselves with dranks and petting the adorably fat dog, until it was decided that the original 4 of us would be heading down to Soho for one of Baweston's friends' bday parties.
We were having a hard time hailing a cab until Charlie Kelly coerced a limo driver into taking us. I hopped in and suddenly had a flashback to being in one with Ibanker and a couple of the other Croatia boys months ago (see Weekend 5). Just as before we took pics and yelled out the window to people until we reached our destination. Once inside the unmarked bar, Baweston disappeared, resurfaced a while later to buy me a drink, then spent the rest of the night talking to an ugly girl. AD and I stuck together and while standing at the bar, had a guy tell us to take shots with them. There were about 12 tequila shots lined up on the bar and they began to pass them to us. BAD idea. When will I learn my lesson? I took two and this is what did me in. We talked to these said boys (who were probably NYU sophomores) for a few minutes then headed to the dancefloor where we spent the rest of the night. Charlie Kelly came to join us and the three of us decided that we loved the poledancer on the platform next to us. We were also offended when the dj wouldn't, for some reason, play Loca People. I'm not sure how much time passed but I suddenly decided that I needed to leave and did so abruptly, barely saying goodbye to them. Once outside, I had no idea where I was and wandered around looking for the subway, getting increasingly pissed off. I decided to call AD (b/c someone at a crowded bar who doesn't live in NYC would be able to help me) and apparently left her a nasty voicemail with a follow-up text that I never wanted to hang out with the boys again. Now I was a little bit disappointed about Bawseton and that I was going home alone, but still no excuse to act like a belligerent child. I eventually made it to the subway and sat in what I was think was the Union Square station, on the stairs, waiting for my train. This was definitely not a night I should've been going home by myself, not in my state. A hipster wearing a fur Russian hat, moved in vulture-like and talked to me until his stop, forcing me to put his number in my phone. I then promptly fell asleep, miraculously waking up at my stop. HOT MESS.
The next afternoon I went to meet the three of them for brunch. Considering my state the night before, I was somehow doing ok, hangover-wise. Luckily, pretty much everyone else was at or below my level. AD could only eat bread, Charlie Kelly had made a loud, pre-puke noise when he took a sip of his bloody mary and Bawseton, well, had not stayed at their hotel. Mmmhmm. After brunch, the group split. AD and I headed into Chelsea for the American Apparel warehouse sale (where Baweston requested I purchase a "sick rompa") and then to 5th Ave to look at the ridic Christmas window displays. The boys had mysterious plans, but we were pretty sure it involved drinking and/or drugs. They were also going to a party at the Gansevoort Park that night, to which AD and I would not be attending. This fete was being thrown by a friend of Bawseton's--it was called the Dapper Party, and the $100 tickets were sold out. We were insanely jealous and also a bit pissed off that the boys had failed to tell us about it beforehand. AD understandably so, since she was in town to mostly visit Charlie Kelly. Luckily she had me, and I knew we could put together some plans for the night with Russian Rocher.
After our afternoon, AD and I headed back to the hotel (which I discovered was right next door to where I had had my awkward date with Lace over the summer, see Out with the Interns) to nap and shower. Halfway through my nap, the boys busted into the room, yelling and in possession of enough drugs to purchase a small Latin American country. Relaxation over. I put on my unitard I had purchased at the sale (instead of the sick romp) and pranced around the room, getting ready and singing along to Loca People. I helped Baweston choose a shirt/tie combo and the four of us fought for mirror space. The boys left before us, with Charlie Kelly apologizing profusely that we weren't coming with. AD and I dismissed this and left shortly after to head back to Greenwich Village to meet her old college roommates at 124 Old Rabbit Club. We had trouble finding the place but finally did, right before we froze to death. The two girls had been on a day-long bar crawl and had oddly, ended here. It was a tiny unmarked bar, basically in a basement and was slowly filling with hipsters, which was pissing me off. These girls were not at all hipster and lived on Long Island. They were both very nice and I was disappointed when a short while later they decided it was time to head home.

Now time to meet up with Russian Rocher and head to Yahtzee's. Two other girls were there, one of whom I had met, and then his roommate (not Deux luckily) and a couple of his friends walked in. I recognized the one from Yahtzee's bday party over the summer and from my bday party as well. He was a tall, skinny Vineyard Vines clad lad and we will call him, The Eagle. They joined up with us and we headed down the street to Solas. It was less than thrilling and after about 5 minutes, like a gift from the heavens, Yahtzee said that his coworker had a table at 1 Oak in Meatpacking. This club is famous and hard to get into so I basically pushed everyone out of the bar and into cabs.
Yahtzee was the last to meet us all there so we all chatted while we stood in line, freezing. Once he arrived though the bouncer lifted up the rope and we were all let in. This shit rarely happens to me so I was pretty excited. We were led right to a vip table filled with grey goose and champagne. I filled my glass up with champagne to the brim and then surveyed the scene--this club was filled with some of the most beautiful and ridiculous people I have ever seen. The uniform for girls seemed to be giant heels, a fur coat and a messy bun. I also spotted an older couple wearing matching white bell-bottoms and t-shirts with spray painted neon peace signs all over them. Everyone was smoking and at one point while we were trying to take a picture some guy stopped right in front of us and lit his cigarette with a candle on our table. There was a guy wearing Harry Potter glasses who somehow creeped into our group and introduced himself to me three separate times. Luckily he left me alone after he grew pissy when I asked if I could try on his glasses.
I spent a good deal of the evening talking to the Eagle. He was fairly interesting and his mannerisms reminded me of Ibanker's. Just what I need in my life. Of course I was drawn to him though and even remember thinking he was cute when I saw him at Yahtzee's party. One of the tables next to us had left, leaving 3 quarters of a bottle of grey goose. We debated trying to take some and apparently the Eagle even did when I had wandered away for a second and was promptly scolded by a bouncer who appeared out of nowhere. The booze was flowing and this is when things escalated. Suddenly the coworker, who Yahtzee had described as "the king of finance" and who was in reality hot and Irish, and the Harry Potter friend pulled AD and me up onto a platform to dance with them. I was having a hard time maintaining my balance in my platforms so I'm sure I made a phenomenal dance partner. This didn't stop the coworker from making out with me though, in full view of the Eagle. Keep in mind that the Eagle and I had made fun of a couple earlier in the night for PDAing and agreed that it was trashy. Oops. This did not last for too long though, because Harry Potter was getting grabby with AD and we were forced to run away from them. I didn't see the coworker again and the Eagle later approached me on the dancefloor to inform me he was leaving. I had probably effed things up with both guys, but at least AD and I had an awesome time. We stumbled out after last call and headed back to my apartment, AD in defiance of Charlie Kelly's bad behavior (he still hadn't called her to meet back up). We grabbed delish breakfast sandwiches and went to sleep as the sun was coming up. Now we could brag to the boys--guess it was us who had had the dapper night after all!

Santa Con: A 15 Hour Bender

I had been looking forward to this day since November 1, since it was my other opportunity to wear a costume besides Halloween. Let me school you in what makes up Santa Con: it is basically a massive bar crawl where everyone involved is dressed as santa or another seasonal character. I had decided to be the grinch, which is very festive, for those of you that have seen the movie (the cartoon, not the creepy Jim Carey rendition). I had planned out an adorable costume, if I do say so myself. Green jeans and a green fleece with a giant sparkly red heart pinned to it. I put my two green pipe cleaners in my hair to mimic his grinch hair. But the icing on the cake was the little stuffed grinch backpack (worn by ravers and me in 7th grade) with his own little santa hat. And within the grinch backpack I had put a water bottle filled with vodka/cran. I was pumped and ready to go.
I met Russian Rocher in Union Square so we could subway down to the Financial District to catch up with the crawl. It had begun at 10AM and it was now about 1PM so we were getting a late start. This proved to be a bad decision for me since all the bros were drunk and were not too welcoming of my grinch costume. I was cursed at twice on our walk to the bar. Am I currently stealing your presents douche bags? No, I'm engaging in the festivities like everyone else. Stupid bros.We met Russian Rocher's group of friends where one of their drunk bro friends proceeded to swear at me. The joke was on him though because he was too drunk to realize I was now with them. One of the guys forced him to apologize and offer me a swig from his bottle of Wild Turkey. When amends were made we all drank more (as is the point of Santa Con) and I made friends with the two girls sitting next to us, one of which had the pluralized form of my name. Weird. One of our guys overheard this and proceeded to make fun of her. She obviously heard him and he then made up a story that his sister has the exact same name. Another narrowly avoided fight--time to head out.
 I had been in contact with Prom for awhile and he was of course holed up in Beckett's so we headed there. Now Prom can be a surly one  and tends to make a lot of asshole comments, though he usually behaves himself around me. Not this time. As soon as he found out Russian Rocher was Russian, he began to spout his self-proclaimed hatred of Russia, because no one was nice to him when he was in Moscow (probably because he made a lot of asshole comments). So shortly after we ditched him and headed out to try and catch up with the rest of the Santa Con crawl in Grand Central, a couple hours late. Trying to get a group of drunk people on the same page and heading in the right direction is quite a task so all of this took much longer than one would think. After getting turned around on the subway, we finally got on the correct train heading to Grand Central (4:30PM).
There were a few straggler santas on our car, and as soon as they saw my costume they burst into a drunken rendition of "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch". At first I was concerned that I was about to get jumped but then I realized that they were a group of harmless babies who were just trying to talk to us. They walked with us into Grand Central, all of them loudly demanding how I could have dressed up as the grinch on an occasion such as this. Obviously this was not at all threatening; one of them demanded that I cover my "baby" and threw a Pittsburgh Steelers towel over the grinch (who had lost his santa hat very early in the night). There were no other santas to be found in the train station so we all decided to head to a bar nearby (with babies in tow). Obviously we were getting some pretty strange looks from pedestrians and the Steelers towel baby kept yelling at them to "never mind the grinch, just ignore her, she sucks!". We chose our bar and the babies promptly bought us shots (turns out they worked in finance...of course).
Awhile later RR's two friends headed home but RR and I decided to stay with the finance babies, who had invited us to eat dinner with them, at the very classy Irish pub we were in. They ordered every appetizer off the menu, plus an entree for each of them. 6:30PM--Russian Rocher and I are involved in a very festive (and free) feast with the finance babies.
GF had been texting me--he did not participate in Santa Con but was now ready to begin his night. I invited him to meet up with us and we made the unanimous decision to head to Penny Farthing in the East Village. GF and I will never learn our lesson that sometimes the subway is just easier and tried for quite awhile to hail a cab, while I froze in my green fleece. We finally met up with Rocher and the babies but I was disappointed to find that the one with the towel must have thought GF was my boyfriend and wouldn't really talk to me. Or it could've been that he saw me give my number to a guy in the bathroom line, who told me that he thought my costume was the "wittiest Santa Con costume" he had seen. Absolutely correct. Unfortunately he turned out to be not so cool when I tried to show him: http://damnyouautocorrect.com/13603/the-25-funniest-autocorrects-of-dyacs-first-year/
and he didn't get the humor. I had sent another guy to nevercall land, just where he belonged.
At around 9PM, GF, Rocher and I decided that our night must continue but we needed an intermission. Rocher headed back to her apartment to nap and I forced GF back to the Shwick with me so I could change. Once in the apartment he took charge, probably because he wanted to leave asap, as his allergies to Baby Kitty were growing worse by the minute. He mixed us some drinks, put on some house music and selected my outfit for me. We were ready in record time and headed back into the East Village and to my fav, the 9th Ward at about 10:30PM. We drank Purple Haze and waited for Rocher to show, but after some unreturned texts we figured she was out for the count. I wanted to try a bar I had read about on St. Marks called International Bar, so we headed there. It turns out I had unknowingly led us to a hipster bar and GF was not pleased. He rallied though, and we sat at the bar drinking PBR. It was then that I noticed an attractive hipster sitting next to us. Yes, you read correctly, an attractive hipster. It was as elusive as a double rainbow or a clean subway car. I knew I had to take advantage, so when GF got up to go the bathroom I leaned over and very charmingly said "You're drinking Genny Cream Ale, what's wrong with you??". Luckily he responded sans tude and we delved into a lengthy conversation about books and how he also lived in the Shwick (surprise). It was then that I noticed GF sitting sulkily at the end of the bar. Apparently he had been sending me texts about leaving but I was too involved with hottie hipster to notice. Afraid that I was about to get ditched, I bid the hipster farewell but was disappointed when he didn't ask for my number. The hipster failed me! Annoyed I followed GF who announced that we were going to Hell's Kitchen so he could meet some men. He led us right back into Blazing Saddles, which was once again filled with (his words not mine) "fairies and bears". When none appeared to talk to him GF grew fed up and claimed he would never meet anyone with me around. I agreed that was the case for me as well and this is where we hastily parted ways. I'm not really sure how it happened but before I knew it I was walking towards the subway to head home at around 2AM.

While standing (teetering) on the subway platform I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to discover the one-handed stalker. This was the third time he had found me in the subway and I was growing concerned that maybe this wasn't a coincidence. However I had been drinking for 13 hours straight at this point, so my reasoning skills weren't so good. I agreed to accompany him to Union Pool in Williamsburg to grab a drink. I demanded a beer and headed to the bathroom. Once presented with it I proceeded to blab his ear off about dumbass guys, my drunken-rambling topic of choice. He sat and listened and it couldn't have put him off too badly because when we were leaving he asked for my number. Even in my drunken state, I pretended like I didn't hear but when he asked again I had no choice. I begrudgingly gave it to him because I would apparently run into him again. We parted ways at the Lorimer subway stop and at 4AM I stumbled back into my apartment and into bed. 15 hours later. What a ridiculous Santa Con.
Addendum: The next day I obviously felt like an absolute train wreck. I could barely walk and spent the whole day on the couch, with Grinchy next to me for company. I also ignored One Handed Stalkers two texts . Luckily he gave up but I'm sure this is not the last of him...

Martin and Mason

It was my first weekend back after Thanksgiving and I was even more exhausted than I had been before the vacation. All that going out in Syracuse had been too much, not to mention a huge mistake. So I was easing back into the NYC lifestyle slowly. That Friday night I decided to forego partying and took up CB's offer to go to a free comedy show with her at the Gramercy Theatre. I hadn't seen any comedy yet in New York and it had been ages since I'd seen CB. She had plenty of updates for me--she had just returned from a Contiki Tour to Italy and had even bigger plans. She was going to be traveling to Thailand and Malaysia over New Years with an Aussie she had met on the Italy trip. I was wary of the Aussie, but also extremely jealous. And the real kicker was, she was going to be going to the infamous Full Moon party on NYE in Thailand. These are notoriously crazy and is something I need to do. It looked like perhaps I was being usurped for the title of International Party Girl....
Once inside the theatre, an attendant was assigned seating. This was a standup comedy show which was going to be taped and shown on Comedy Central. Pretty legit. Both CB and I were in shock when the woman led us to seats directly next to the stage, in the very front, in the line of multiple cameras. "You need to laugh a lot girls, you're going to be on tv" were her parting words. We were already laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Luckily the comedian (Matt Braunger, who looked familiar to both us though we weren't able to place him) was actually funny and I only had to fake laugh a couple of times. Afterwards I headed home, early, which was unheard of for me, but I was in serious need of sleep.
Plus I needed to have some energy for the following night, which I had been looking forward to for awhile. GF and I were going to be seeing my fave dj, Martin Solveig. Unfortunately it was at Pacha, and I had purchased the tickets before the last Oakenfold/Pacha debacle. I probably would've reconsidered this decision had I known. But there was no turning back now and I was still really looking forward to seeing my Martin. I had the perfect shirt for the occasion (a tank top that said "HELLO" in neon letters) and I had even gone to American Apparel to purchase a sweatband. GF and I were meeting in Hell's Kitchen early to grab a drink before the show. Now Hell's Kitchen is apparently the new Chelsea, meaning it is the new gay mecca. Perfect for GF, and he knew the gayest place of all. It was a bar called Blazing Saddles, which essentially meant it was a gay Coyote Ugly. They had shirtless bartenders wearing cowboy hats dancing on the bar to country music. It was fillllled with gay guys and I was literally the only girl there, besides a pack of lesbians in the corner. When one of the gay cowboys was doing his dance routine on the bar, he tapped me lightly on the head, which I took to mean "Girl, wtf are doing here??". Despite what was going on around us, GF and I sat at the bar and had a fairly serious conversation, considering. I was spilling my worries to him about Mason. We hadn't texted at all during Thanksgiving and I hadn't seen him since our awkward dinner. Now he had been away for Thanksgiving and was moving into a new apartment, so I knew he was busy, but I was still worried. GF basically had to talk me down from the ledge once again, or at least help to eradicate the stories I was constructing in my head.

Interjection: Not long after this, Mason and I started up again. He invited me over to see his new place in Spanish Harlem, which was surprisingly nice. Our following dates included: going down the giant slide at the New Museum and seeing a ridic hipster band called "the Half Faggots" in Williamsburg--the hipsters were so hipsterish that they looked like they had special needs and they glared at us as we stood drinking our PBR (apparently that is out and Tecate is in).We were having fun together, though I would go through periods where I wasn't sure that I even liked him, fueled by the fact that we didn't really text, which was a stark contrast to Ibanker and I (we texted all the time). So who knows what will happen with Mason and I, though I feel like at this point, if we wanted to date, we would be. My pessimism for guys doesn't help either and I can't help wondering what fun surprise Mason will have in store for me. And I don't even try to calculate the condom count.....

"Oui, join us on tour s'il vous plait!"

After Blazing Saddles, GF and I went from one extreme to the other. Pacha was filled to the brim with bros, bros and more disgusting bros. I wanted to be right up front of course so we pushed our way, with much difficulty, towards the booth. Hardwell was opening and though he was really good, I was eager to see Martin  and then get the f out of the crowd. It was hellacious--GF and I spent the next 2 and a half hours pressed up against sweaty, jumping 22 year old bros with no crowd etiquette. GF basically had to hold me up, as the crowd kept swaying and I would've been trampled immediately. I couldn't help thinking that the club was definitely over capacity and if something happened (a fire, etc) we would have no chance. I did enjoy Martin immensely when he finally came on, thought I was upset that Lafaille wasn't with him and that he couldn't see my shirt. I had of course had daydreams of meeting them both and them asking me to join their tour, making my International Party Girl dreams come true! This dream was crushed at the same time as my foot, when a massive bro jumped directly on it. I screamed and GF decided then and there that he had had enough. We left, with him supporting me as I limped. We slowly walked to get a snack and we must've looked like we had just come out of battle. We were soaked in sweat and I could barely walk. My foot was swollen and had an indentation in it. Just outrageous. It was worth it to see Martin but I have since pledged to never set (swollen) foot in Pacha aka the worst club in New York ever again.

An Excessive Thanksgiving Vaca

I had spent nearly every Thanksgiving of my life in the Cuse and this one was to be no different. I had grand plans to squeeze in seeing everyone I could, when I was not shoving my face with delish Thanksgiving staples (I would eat cranberry sauce directly out of the can if given the option). I dipped out of work early and headed to the dreaded Port Authority (we meet again) to catch my bus. The line was almost as bad as it had been on my escape from the hurricane over the summer but lucky for me I spotted a family friend's son a ways ahead of me in line, so I casually joined him. Good move because the cutoff for the bus stopped right in front of my original place in line. The bus was jam-packed which made for a delightful 5 hour trip. Luckily the traffic wasn't heavy and I made it back even earlier than I expected. Perfect for my plan to go out for what was once my favorite holiday--the night before Thanksgiving. A huge bar night in Syracuse. It is so crowded that it actually feels like a real city and I always make sure I look real good for the inevitable run ins with terrible people from high school, just so they are are aware that yes, I have done better than them.
Mairey came to pick me up and we headed to the Tusk, where we sat in a corner and caught up, mainly on boy troubles. Her ibanker-equivalent had just broken things off with her and my frustration with the Mason situation was at an all-time high. Perhaps this wasn't the best convo to be having while drinking as my mood took a turn for the worst, as it sometimes does in Syracuse. Mairey had one of her guy friends meet us out and he was accompanied by one of his guy friends. To them this clearly meant we were now on a double-date and they followed us to Al's and even to get pizza afterwards. I did not want to be talking to either of these guys, especially the friend's friend, who was so tall he resembled the giant from the Princess Bride. I was unfriendly to say the least, and may at one point have wandered away mid-convo with the giant. High School had been texting me (not one of the horrible people) and he was downtown as well. To my surprise he came to meet me at Al's and momentarily saved me from the monotony of false dates. Though perhaps he was under the same impression, because at one point he put his arm around me (his girlfriend was clearly not in town). Despite this, I enjoyed hanging out with him and was happy he showed up. He helped improve what may be my worst night before Thanksgiving to date, and will likely be my last.
The next day after sleeping til noon and scrubbing the Uncle Fester-like make up stains from under my eyes, I was surprisingly not that hungover. This was a vast improvement from a few years prior, when I had to puke in the trashcan in my room while blasting the first song on my ipod (ABBA- Dancing Queen) to try and cover up the sounds. My whole family showed up at 2:30pm while I was sitting at the kitchen table in my bathrobe trying to force down dry toast. Happy Thanksgiving everyone. This year consisted of a much more chipper me, happily inhaling all the joys a Thanksgiving meal has to offer, while my family made jokes about my French Canadian Grandmother's pastries, whose name translates to "nun's farts" in English. Afterwards I was too lethargic to do anything for hours, and decided to make this my one night to stay in.
The next night I was scheduled to go out with Hassy so I knew this would be a rough one. We headed to the main bar on Tipp Hill, to get a break from downtown. It was filled with kids from our high school who were roughly 2-4 years younger than us, including High School himself. I had been informed of this ahead of time, of course, and spent the majority of our time there speaking with him. When he introduced me to his roommate, his response was "Oh, I've heard a lot about you!". So based on the past couple incidents I think it is a safe assumption that though I think High School is cool, he is kind of a sleazebag for trying to cheat on his girlfriend with me, and who knows who else. But will this stop me from hanging out with him, out of sheer curiosity of what will develop? Probably not.
Hassy and I decided to head back downtown after awhile, and High School did not accompany us, as originally planned, which was probably for the best. She met some of her friends at a bar which I hate, that reeked of vomit, so I headed across the street to Al's where I had arranged for another past Cuse boy to meet up with me--Summer Boo. We sat at the bar and caught up and somehow the topic came onto dating, which it somehow always does with us. After a few drinks he made this mistake of asking me what ever happened with "the guy who had invited me to the Hamptons" which resulted in an angry tirade spouting out of my mouth. My head may have even spun around. His response--"Whoa. Sorry." Sorry you asked, indeed, Summer Boo. After my meeting with him, I met back up with Hassy and we headed back to her house where I devoured an entire frozen pizza in front of the tv.
I had no set plans for my final night in Cuse and was almost relieved when it looked like nothing would develop. But after a quick text from Summer Boo informing him of this, he changed that plan. He said that he knew some people out and would come pick me up. Though I was tired and didn't really feel like venturing back out, I agreed and the two of us headed back downtown. We went right back to Al's and performed a reenactment of the night before. We sat at the bar chatting and this time I let it spill about Coffee, whom had been texting me about meeting up over Thanksgiving for the past three weeks. I had no desire to see him, as he had become a bit pushy and I realized I was in too deep. Huuuge mistake for drunkenly making out with him on my previous Cuse trip. I had successfully avoided him and deterred his texts up until now but I was worried about seeing him out, since his apartment was right around the corner. I had told him I was going to be out with high school friends and I certainly didn't want him showing up, especially since I was just out with one other guy. Luckily though he must have finally picked up on my elusive texts and I didn't hear from him again until last call, when he invited me up to his apartment for snacks. He remembered the snack trick from last time but I wasn't falling for it this time, especially since he had basically just admitted he just wanted to make out with me again. No way buddy. Instead I accompanied Summer Boo on his drive back to drop his drunk friend off at home. We then grabbed snacks at a calzone place back downtown, where we sat watching the Syracuse trash file in. Chin straps galore. On the walk back to the car there was a massive fight in the parking lot. We were both disgusted at this point and it was then that I decided I would no longer be going out in Syracuse. Enough is enough, I am just too old.

German Invasion

This weekend the German I had met at Sticky Rice in DC over the summer was scheduled to visit NYC. I was fine with this, until he asked if he could stay at my place. I had mentioned that if he couldn't find a hostel he could sleep on our short couch, of course not really meaning it. But being the pushover that I am, I agreed when he actually asked. I immediately had major qualms, considering I barely knew this guy and even considered making up a story about why he couldn't stay. But surprisingly when I spoke with my mother about it, she told me that I should let him stay, since I already told him he could and I knew how hard it could be to live in a foreign country. Feeling guilty, I begrudgingly agreed to host him at what was now my Brooklyn Bed and Breakfast.
German was scheduled to get in around 9 on a Friday night so I figured that gave me time to meet JM and her coworkers in the Financial District for some happy hour drinks. At least I could take the edge off, since I really had no idea of German's intentions while staying with me.
I met them at Ulysses, which was filled with hot guys, and was sulky when they decided to leave and head to another bar. We settled in and I looked around at the cast of characters which would make up my evening. JM, of course, a girl originally from Bed Stuy with a matching attitude, a guy who looked like he played A LOT of Magic the Gathering, a semi cute guy, and his friend, who was a lawyer who reminded me a lot of my own law school hookup, and not in a good way. I sighed and took the free beer which was handed to me. Luckily the lawyer stepped it up and bought us a couple free rounds of shots, since I could tell he had his eye on JM.
Before I knew it it was time to head uptown to meet the German. I said that I would meet them all later, since I did not want to be out with this guy alone. Once retrieved, it was not as bad as I thought it was going to be. The German could carry on a good conversation and didn't even seem to mind when I distractedly got on the wrong train and we had to run off at the last minute. He didn't seem too disgusted by the Shwick as well and even gave me a little Thank You present of some Lindt Christmas chocolates (I immediately put the little santa hat that adorned it on the cat and cracked up like a crazy person).
We left shortly after to meet JM and crew in Williamsburg for a party they had decided on. We got off at the Lorimer stop and somehow located were they were, which was outside on a corner. The Lawyer was missing and I couldn't really tell what had happened to the party, or if there had ever been one. Everyone was pretty wasted, especially the semi cute guy, so German and I had a lot of catching up to do. We took turns drinking the beer we had bought (very discreet in the brown paper bag) and corralled everyone to Union Pool. There was a short line out front and when a hipster saw us approaching he actually said that JM and I were too tall and too pretty to be going to this bar. I decided to play it up and went right to the front and walked in. It was filled to the brim with hipsters but still a cool place, with a huge backyard which contained a giant fire pit and multiple food carts. It was too cold to be out there though so we claimed a spot by the entrance. The girl from Bed Stuy suddenly ran up to a girl wearing a fur jacket claiming she wanted to pet it. I turned to the German and we agreed these people were far more wasted than either of us. Right at this moment the semi cute guy (the most wasted of them all) was yelling "Yea girl...YEA GIRL!" right in the face of a terrified-looking girl walking in. Suddenly the Lawyer appeared out of nowhere and things escalated even more. He bought a round of shots of Jack Daniels (wtf)  which we all later agreed did us in. He also had a girl with him who he introduced as his girlfriend to me and as his friend to JM. He also kept telling the German, "welcome to America"...very douche bag-like. The semi cute/wasted/yelling guy had disappeared for the night so we decided to head to another bar, Pete's Candy Store, which isn't nearly as cool as it sounds. On the way out we ran into the one-handed kid. (As a refresher, he is the one who met us out the night JM and I had to run from the Russians and who we randomly ran into the night we had to run from the Aussies). Luckily we didn't have to run from anyone this night, but we did have a stupid hipster girl give us major attitude when we asked for directions to the bar. Once there the Lawyer had somehow deposited his "friend" along the way and was giving JM the lookover. One-handed Stalker was busy chatting with some other girls, so I figured this was our chance. Claiming I felt like I was going to throw up, I gathered the German and JM and we separated ourselves. The three of us headed back to the Shwick and got delish breakfast sandwiches from the organic store. JM was staying the night and the German was going to be sleeping on his air mattress in the living room. Except that he had supposedly forgot one of the pieces to inflate it....this did not change the fact that the German was going to be sleeping on his air mattress in the living room. I threw an extra blanket on the floor and demonstrated that it wasn't that uncomfortable. Sobriety hit me at that moment I was rolling around on the ground and I realized I was probably flashing my butt to the two of them. I awkwardly stood and quickly went to bed.
JM left early the next morning and the cat kept the German company by sitting on the couch and staring at him the whole morning. His comment: "yes, she is watching me" (in a German accent).I wasn't sure what the hell the two of us were going to do for the day but luckily he liked my suggestion of the Central Park Zoo. I love zoos and was delighted when we were able to see a giant polar bear walking around and sea lions making sea lion noises on top of their rocks. Afterwards we stuffed our faces with Chipotle and then vetoed the idea of going to the Top of the Rock, once we found out it was $25.
Luckily Russian Rocher had plans in store for us--she was meeting up with some friends doing a bar crawl. Not really knowing what else to do and wanting to escape the cold, I said we would meet her in Soho. Of course it turned out to be at Spring Lounge, which was Ibanker's bar of choice. Slightly terrified that I would see him, I decided I needed to man up and we headed inside anyway. He was nowhere to be found, but that did not stop me from nervously checking over my shoulder the entire time. After, though, I was pretty proud of myself for facing my fear. The next stop on the bar crawl was right down the street, and the three of us stood chatting with one of the bar crawl members, who was a complete dork. I was getting tired and grumpy at this point so I said I was going home to nap and we would meet them out later. I'm sure they were skeptical but it was imperative that we went out that night (awkward night in with the German? nope!) so I kept my light on while I napped and set two alarms. I then corralled him back into the city where we re-met Russian Rocher and the dorky guy at Penny Farthing. The crowd was filled with NYU freshmen but we still managed to have a decent time. I also spotted one of Mason's friends in the corner, but couldn't remember his name, so I decided to use that as my excuse to avoid an awkward convo. Our next stop was the Ninth Ward, which is probs my new fav bar. While there we called Please Don't Tell on the off-chance they had a table available. The hostess bitchily informed us there was not, but we decided to check in person. And what a good decision because as soon as the phone booth opened she led us right over to a table for all of us. I was pleased and very excited to order their delish tater tots. Russian Rocher spotted one of her coworkers and her date walking in so they ended up sitting with us as well. The date was seriously one of the most attractive men I've seen (and also turned out to be a male model) and I felt like a complete creeper b/c I know I kept staring at him the whole night. Our table jovially closed out the place and good thing, because at that point I was exhausted.
The next morning the German left early and I was surprised to have the day to myself. I took care of some errands around the apartment before I grew restless. I decided to head to Port Authority to change my bus ticket home for Thanksgiving (the next weekend). This is also close to Mason's apartment--killing two birds with one stone. After informing him I was in the area, we walked to go get food and ended up at Empanada Mama. I was a little dismayed at this choice, and also at the fact that our conversation was strained. I suppose it didn't help that the table next to us contained two yelling pieces of NYC white trash. Things did not improve throughout dinner, nor at the end when we split the bill and went our separate ways. Things did not look good at this point, and I left for Thanksgiving worried that this could be the end of our romance.....