New York City is not the place to be if you want to act your age. My lifestyle makes this very clear, since on the weekends I party like a college kid, instead of acting like the 26 year old that I am. And this particular weekend was the culmination of a long year of partying. I've realized I'm starting to lose steam....
The weekend started off relatively calm. Russian Rocher's bday celebration was scheduled for Friday night so after another work happy hour I met her at her apartment. We walked over to Veselka on the Bowery together where the group dinner was going to be held. I was pumped for some Eastern European food and pigged out on some borscht and snitzel. There were about 20 people at this dinner, all of varied and interesting backgrounds. I don't think I even know 20 people in New York, but that's classic Russian Rocher. I chatted with the friend from Santa Con, who Yahtzee is interested in. He showed up towards the end of dinner because he had overslept his nap.
After the din, we all headed to a rooftop bar nearby in the Lower East Side. GF showed up momentarily, wasted, but left soon afterwards. Another surprise appearance was made by one of the other Croatia guys, who had also been present on Halloween. I hadn't seen him since so we chatted for a bit. Somehow we got on the topic of guys who like Asian girls and I confessed my theory that these guys are usually weirdos--I think it's creepy since a lot of times Asian girls are shaped like children. His argument was that I am also skinny, to which I had no response. He also mentioned that he would be moving to Chicago in the next couple of months and would probably have a going away party, which immediately put me on alert. Just who would be present at this going away party......??
Unfortunately I did not have as much fun at this party as I would've liked since it was absolutely packed, even though we had a table. It seemed like the entire junior class at NYU was present and every girl looked exactly alike--long dark straight hair with a chain purse. The whole scene was pissing me off but I made a half-hearted attempt to dance with everyone downstairs. Yahtzee and the friend were buddying up and I was pleased. Later when she said she was leaving, he said he would walk her out and did not return. I was like a proud yet sad mother watching her grown baby leave for college. Not long after I decided to call it a night.
I needed my energy for the next night--Martin Solveig Part 2. As you may recall, GF and I had seen him a few months ago at the worst place in New York--Pacha, which was packed to the brim with bros, one of whom crushed my foot. Luckily Martin was playing at a much better venue this time around and hopefully I would have more space to avoid large jumping bros. I headed to GF's early, so that we could pregame. I was dressed in a ridic outfit which involved a shirt which said "Hello" in bright neon letters and a sweatband, so we had a photoshoot with me and GF wearing shutter shades. (After I put one of them as my profile pic on facebook and I had more than a couple people wondering why I was dating Ronnie from the Jersey Shore). We also made the mistake of taking adderall which I blame as the main cause of the night escalating. After a few bevs we cabbed it up to Terminal 5 and were greeted with a huge mass of people crowded around the door. We were both ready to pee our pants but luckily the mass squeezed through the entrance relatively quickly. Once inside we staked out a spot near the bar with a clear view of the stage. GF took a picture with a girl also wearing shutter shades and I began to blab to the poor foreign guy next to us. This continued throughout the set--every time a new song came on I grabbed his arm and screamed something to the effect of "I LOVE THIS SONG!". I'm sure he wanted to kill me but I didn't notice since I was so caught up in Solveig. He was much better than at Pacha and even played "Hello". We danced around like idiots but unfortunately that's pretty much all I can remember about the show. I do know I had fun though.
And the night gets even foggier when we left. I really have no recollection of how we got to the gay bar in Hell's Kitchen where we ended up. I know I sat on the patio with GF for quite awhile. I had a 20 minute conversation with a nice gay man but I cannot tell you one topic which was discussed. I do remember texting with Jersey though and convincing him to come meet me. He wasn't crazy about coming to a gay bar, especially when he got his ass grabbed standing in the bathroom line. I wanted GF's take on him but out of the three of us, no one really remembers anything about the introduction except that GF thought he had spiky hair (false). We bailed out pretty quickly and by then I was completely time-traveling. I don't know which is more likely--two blackout drunk people trying to hail a cab or two blackout drunk people stumbling the few blocks back to Jersey's place. We must have successfully done one though because we made it back. I have glimpses of what followed, causing me to have a pregnancy scare a couple weeks later (sidenote-everything is fine, no babies here). We woke up in the morning and tried to piece together the rest of the night, pretty unsuccessfully. We did find a pile of my clothes in the living room and my shoes in the bedroom though. We were both feeling like death and proceeded to spend the day being lazy pieces of shit. We barely left the couch and ordered all our meals in. We watched a soccer game and smoked a bunch of weed, which I really hadn't done in a few years. The whole thing was total college and disgusting, but I was fine with it for a day. It was this series of events that made me decide that perhaps I needed to reevaluate my lifestyle a little bit. 26 is a bit too old to be getting blackout drunk, even in New York City. The weekend had killed me and I needed a break.
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