"Hey, do you guys want a shot?"

Would crazy times continue over from 2011 into 2012?? This particular weekend proved it. As most of my crazy weekends in NYC, GF was involved in the first night of it. We were meeting up in the West Village (I had officially gotten over avoiding this neighborhood as the likelihood of actually running into Ibanker was slim to none, and really, wtf did I care anyway??). We walked towards a bar I wanted to try, Employees Only. On the way, a ghetto looking woman grabbed GF's ass, and started cat-calling him to the point of verbal abuse. We quicked our pace and arrived outside the bar just in time to see a guy unknowingly step into a misleading puddle, which was about as deep as a kiddie pool. We stifled our chuckle and headed inside--the bar was very narrow, very classy looking and filled with beautiful people. Pleased that we had gotten in, we fought out way to the bar and decided that we needed to take a shot. While mulling over what to get, the guy next to us randomly turned to us and asked "hey, do you guys want a shot?". It was like a gift from the heavens. We paused and both said yes, at the same time, a little too enthusiastically. We then took a massive shot of Jameson, with this man and his group of friends, the first of many for the night. Our guy of course worked in finance and was mediocre looking, so GF was convinced I would go for him, since considering my track record, that is my type in New York. It turns out his other mediocre-looking (and very wasted) friend was interested. Kind of. He had been talking to a very drunk girl at the bar that night. She had at one point explained to us her reaction when a guy "sticks it in the wrong hole"--true story. She was apparently their friend and it was very clear that this guy wanted to get with her. His gameplan--to hit on me, while very obviously looking at her the entire time. She had been amicable earlier in the night but she must not have been pleased with these developments. She kept shooting me death glares, and in my drunken haze, I grew scared for my life. I informed GF that we needed to leave immediately and he took me seriously. We were out the door in about 10 seconds, barely saying goodbye to our new "friends".
Once in safety, I admitted that I had overreacted a little bit, but we headed to a fratty hookah bar nearby to dance it off to some house music for a bit. We did just that for about 20 minutes then decided it was Mystiqrious time. It had been quite awhile since either of us had been there and we were pumped. Except when we walked inside, there were about 4 people. It was prime club time, yet the place was empty. Disgusted, we didn't even stay for a drink. We both decided that good old Mystiqrious would be open for another two months, tops. As usual, GF made the executive decision that we were headed to Hells Kitchen. I didn't object because I was staying on his couch that night. We stood outside one of the gay bars, so GF could smoke a cigarette and this is how we met new "friends" in an unexpected way. He turned around to spit, not realizing that there was a small girl right behind him. The loogie landed right on her arm. She looked up, in shock, and GF brushed it off her jacket before she could notice. That is when our friendship was born. She had a gaggle of gays in tow with her and we ran around with them for the rest of the night, hopping from bar to bar. At one of them, I got involved with a convo with the only straight guy in the gay bar. He was of course hideous, and also French, and I was convinced he was gay. Once found out, one of the gays came to my rescue. I wish he had been there after we parted ways with them. GF was being heavily pursued by a huge gay ginger and his tiny asian boyfriend. They followed down the street, where we were in search of an afterparty in vain. I don't know what the fuck these aggressive, drunk, horny gays thought was going to happen, but GF was almost run over trying to hail a cab asap. We got one and jumped in and sped away from that hot mess, making a pit stop at the bodega. I demanded Doritos and GF and I were making such a commotion that somehow the bodega man gave me my Doritos for free. The second time one of them has hooked me up--the first, was with Ibanker when I had to secretly buy a box of tampons without him seeing and the clerk very stealthy put it in my purse with lightning speed!
The next morning GF took some aderol to push through his hangover and be an effective person. By the time I got up, he was talking a mile a minute while simultaneously cleaning and cooking eggs. He shoveled some on to my plate and I obediently ate them, feeling both dazed and overwhelmed. We cackled over our recap of the night before I headed back to Brooklyn.
The next night I was set on not going out but at around 8pm I began to grow bored. I decided that I would go out if someone texted me with plans. Not 20 minutes later I received a text from Yahtzee asking me to go there immediately--they had a ton of leftover booze from the party that they needed to finish. I took that as my cue and got ready as quickly as I could. When I walked up to his building, I saw that the Eagle was walking in as well. What a coincidence. So I'm sure the fact that we walked in together got people talking. Turns out this leftover booze was an entire counter filled with an assortment of bottles. They had more booze here than most bars in NYC. I grabbed a spot in the kitchen where I chatted with Yahtzee and some others, and was pleased when Russian Rocher showed up. I hadn't seen her since she had returned from Russia for the holidays. We fell back into place by making fun of this nerdy guy who was spazzing out about some fact, which he insisted was true and almost went through the roof when Russian Rocher told him it was an "urban legend". We also made fun of a couple girls who walked in, who were apparently new to drinking and thought you could make a mixed drink with Soco. Gross. Deux was also present and he was much less friendly to me than on NYE--probably b/c he had a date with him and didn't want me to become inspired to tell her that he is a pseudo-rapist. Luckily they did not accompany us to Lit Lounge, where a large group of us headed. I had never been and it turned out to be an extremely dark hipster bar, where I felt we didn't really belong, especially the boys in their Vineyard Vines. They were not phazed though and bought us all a round of drinks. Well done. High School had been texting me; he was out in the East Village as well, so I invited him to come meet us. I was slightly concerned of how this would work out with the Eagle and our potential interest in each other, but it turns out it didn't make any difference, since I gave my number to a guy I met in the bathroom line right in front of him anyway (he never called, fyi).
High School showed up with his roommate (the same guy I had met over Thanksgiving) and they were, not surprisingly, pretty wasted. They were both in North Faces and did not seem pleased with the Hipsters. At the end of the night, High School, the Eagle, Russian Rocher and I all decided to head to another bar. As we exited, High School threw open the door a bit too hard and it slammed into the wall. The bouncer was not pleased with this and it led to a screaming match between the two of them on the sidewalk. I was trying not to laugh while being mortified at the same time. Classic Syracuse move. I coralled the Eagle and Russian Rocher away from the bar, saying he was now on his own. We were sidetracked on the way though when we discovered Yahtzee down the street in a falaffel place, which led us to each buy falaffel as well. It took me roughly an hour and a half to finish mine and I made everyone wait with me. By this time, no one else felt like going out so we all parted ways and the Eagle and I stopped back at Yahtzee's to pee and walked to Union Square together. He once again made no moves and feeling a bit dejected, I hopped on the L train and made my way back to the Shwick.