SUELA love you!

As jealous as I was that I missed out on that shitshow with AD and MM, I recently had a girls weekend of my own. Two of my friends from undergrad came up from Virginia to stay with me in NYC for a long weekend--BK and JW. We all knew we were going to be getting into some rowdy shit--it was being planned weeks in advance. And we were definitely correct. BK turned out to be the shining star of the weekend--everywhere we went guys were tripping over themselves to talk to her. I met them Thursday evening where their bus let out. They were eating pizza and I happily joined them. There was a guy at the table next to us who started making comments about BK's pillow she had with her luggage. Luckily he left soon after because he was not very interesting. He was replaced by three more guys who also made lame observations in the hopes of being able to speak with BK. To quote her directly, "Stoopid!", 2 o's necessary. I decided to show them a bit of Astoria so we headed to the beer garden. The weather was not nice so we sat inside. It was empty minus a table of guys. Not long after we settled in one headed our way. When he found out they were from VA he began to discuss how much he wanted to visit Baltimore (wrong state buddy). When I told him he would get killed there he turned his attention exclusively to BK. JW and I amused ourselves with a new face she had learned on the subway ride over--a tight-lipped smile which made her upper lip almost disappear and for some reason caused me to laugh uncontrollably.
The next day we ate brunch at the diner next to my apartment. I ate more than the two of them combined. Then we headed to the Upper Eastside to see some museums and so I could go to a "stoopid" meeting. I left them at one of the museums for this and found them afterwards drinking at a chain restaurant nearby. We had Thai for dinner which disagreed with my stomach. Not a good start to a night of drinking. We mixed a large soda bottle of vodka and hopped on the subway to head to Meatpacking. Since I had companions with me I decided to go all out and wear my shiny gold leggings. And lo and behold as soon as we walked on the train there was an old, flamboyant black man in a similar outfit. Except his was much shinier and he had made his. I of course posed for a photo with him, after we all chatted for most of the train ride. Once we arrived in Meatpacking I had no idea where to go, as I had never been there. We wandered and decided on the Standard Beer Garden (again the weather was not nice). BK set off to talk to a table of boys, who turned out to be the most boring Dutch people I have ever met. While this was taking place I received a text from Dennis Reynolds, the guy I had met during Tiesto in Miami. He ended up meeting us out and good thing because he was able to lead us to another bar a bit later. JW and I grew bored with the Dutch and headed over to another group of European-looking guys. They were a group of friendly Brits. All except one, of course the one who kept talking to me. In my state I was convinced he was gay for some reason and happy oblidged when he asked for my number, we could be bff's of course. False. It turns out he wasn't gay (as we discovered when he blew up my phone for the next week and a half) and wasn't even with the Brits! Creepy.

The rest of the night was a blur. I know I spoke with Dennis Reynolds about many things, though I have no idea what. I also know that he was only speaking to me because he had given up on BK whom had started to make out with one of the Brits. I did get free drinks though, not that I needed them. JW was exhausted and finally convinced the rest of us to leave. BK lost her camera and I apparently kept trying to convince Dennis Reynolds to come to the diner with us in Queens. For god's sake I don't know why. Luckily he refused. Once at the diner I ordered a salad (perfect drunk food) then sat on the floor of the bathroom for 20 minutes feeling sick. I stumbled back to my apartment before the girls were done eating. I passed out for a minute then woke up to puke, while they were calling my phone to let them in. I eventually managed to when I was done being disgusting.
Not quite though--I puked roughly 10 more times the next day. The jack and gingers I had deciced to drink all night to soothe my stomach had failed me. I was barely alive and had to call into work at the fucking coffee chain. They did not take it well--they said I either needed to find someone to cover or get a doctor's note. I did neither and for the next week was terrified I was going to be fired. The girls left to do some sightseeing and get dinner. Finally around 8pm I was able to crawl out of bed and into the shower. The girls arrived around 10 (they had gotten very lost) and I greeted them, dressed and eating my roommate's friend's leftover taco at the table. Now Roommate had also had a rough day. He had gone on a bar crawl, gotten far too wasted and somehow fallen on his face. He had lost a tooth, cut his cheek and had a black eye. He looked like shit, or at least like someone had beaten the shit out of him. He was still drunk when he arrived home and livid, yelling about his face. The girls quickly got ready and we headed out for our next big night--Rebel Bingo!
I was ready to reclaim my prize. The cover party for the night was a fashion show and it was being held in the basement of the Hudson Hotel--the place I had gone my first weekend out in NYC. We showed up, me in bright yellow tights, JW in a shirt that screamed "HELLO" in neon letters and all of us with huge sunglasses. I asked the moustached man in all white the way to the fashion show. We walked through 3 different hallways until we entered a dark basement filled with rowdy wasted people with techno blaring much too loudly. I was in heaven. Though I still felt mildy sick, I decided to just stick to beer that night. We played the first round of bingo unsuccessfully. We never made it to another round--we were sidetracked by a group of French and Swiss boys who kept trying to write all over us with their markers. JW took an immediately liking to one who lived in Geneva (I disapproved, story of why to come later). They proceeded to chat in a corner the entire night while BK and I danced with the cast of characters present--our French friends, a man in a cowboy hat, his friend with a neon boa around his neck that I wanted nowhere near me, a guy in a panda suit, a guy with a stuffed panda that we tried to steal, etc. The pictures from this night look like we were at a circus and we basically were. We also proceeded to yell lines from our new favorite video that MM had sent to me. http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/77b668bc46/rich-dicks She said the two guys acted just like our Miami friends Mac and Charlie Kelly, which isn't too far from the truth. I showed it o BK and JW and they loved it as well. BK and I almost died at one point in the night when Swiss guy crumpled up a napkin and threw it over the bar. What a rich dick. And lesson learned--Bingo parties in Manhattan are definitely more successful than Bingo parties in Brooklyn.
At the end of the night we discussed our plan of action. While this was going on we spotted the man in gold from the subway! JW ran up to him hugged him. We then decided to call it a night and bought a bag of chips each for the ride. We promptly passed out when we returned to the apartment. The next morning. I ate a cupcake for breakfast and then we trucked back into the city for our touristy bus tour. First we had to drop their luggage off at a random storage place that smelled incredibly foul. On the way I thought BK and JW may die from carrying all their stuff on the trek. And since I was still too weak from my all-day pukefest to do much of anything, I looked like the bitch who wouldn't carry her own luggage. The bus tour was successful--we got to sit and be lazy and make fun of foreign children. We then retrieved their luggage (holding our breath) and I stood with them in line for their bus back. At this time I realized I hadn't properly shaved my ankles--BK lent me her razor. Not knowing what else to do I did a quick touch-up in line in front of everyone. A little too quickly as I cut the shit out of my ankles. I was meeting Cute Guy and I showed up with bleeding ankles and a razor and bloody subway napkin in my purse. I reported this to the girls via text--they were on their way back and I was heartbroken.