Here we go again....

By the next weekend things were luckily starting to pick up. I had plans and ridic stories were happening, once again. Let's begin:
This particular Thursday night was supposed to be another intern get-together but it really just ended up being JM and me. This was fine with me as the location for this outing was just a few blocks from my apartment--the Beer Garden. The weather was finally starting to get relatively nice and JM had never been. Upon her arrival she informed me that she had met two guys in the past few days and had invited them both. I am always slightly concerned with the mixing of different groups in social settings and became more so when she stated that one guy was Russian and the other only had one hand. This could either go really well or very badly. Once the Russian guy joined us I knew it would be the latter. He was immediately obnoxious--condescending, arrogant and talking only about himself and only to JM. And it didn't look like we were going to be able to get rid of him--he had invited two other friends along who weren't quite as bad but still not people I wanted to be associating with. They made lame jokes and I sat drinking my Czech beer, trying to think of a way out of the situation. One of the other interns had more success--about 5 minutes after showing up she assessed the situation and wisely decided that she had to meet her friend at the "other" beer garden. She was out the door before I knew it. Just the two of us, stuck with these idiots. Original Russian decided they wanted to go to the outside part of the garden and I was hoping they would stay there but shortly after he came back in and told JM that "they were leaving, they weren't having fun". JM gave it her blessing but of course he just stood there, arguing with her for her not wanting him to stay. I listened to this and grew angrier and angrier. I had been sick of this guy from the beginning and now he was being a real dick. I debated what to do in my head and finally just went for it. "Maybe you should just fucking leave. No one wants you here anyway you fucking douchebag! Leave!", were the words that escaped my mouth. I pointed to the door, slammed my fist on the table and yelled this again. I felt bad for making a scene but I figured this was the surest way to get them to go.
Apparently Russians think differently than we do. He did not leave. He pulled up a chair, got too close to me and informed me that he liked Polish girls. He then proceeded to stare at me the rest of the time I sat there. Was this guy for real?? Finally I had had enough. I was going to the bathroom and JM was coming with me. I made sure she brought her purse and we hightailed it out the front door. We ran to the subway, making sure they weren't behind us. She texted her handless friend, who had shown up just in time to witness the chaos. He seemed nice but obviously couldn't get a word in with what went down. He met us and we actually did go to the "other" beer garden to meet the other intern. It was filled with bros and I didn't stay long as it was getting late. I left and back at the subway the machine wouldn't take my money and luckily the guy let me through for free. I must have been flustered by this and somehow got on the train going in the wrong direction so it took me about double the time to get home as it should have.

The next night I headed back to Williamsburg, to Polish Princess's new place. She had moved in with T and things weren't going well at the moment. They had gotten into a blowout right before he had left for a business trip to London. He wasn't responding to her and she was understandably having some anxiety over this. I listened to this while she chopped up fruit for a giant bowl of sangria she was making. She was having some friends over to join later. They certainly livened things up as they were some of the most hilarious girls I've ever met. Two of them were roommates in Bushwick and recounted stories about their terrible neighbors--nonstop reggaeton blasting, the lady downstairs getting drunk and locking herself out of her apartment on a weekly basis, and the chronic masturbator in the building next door. Apparently he would bang on the window when people walked by and go to town when they looked up. One friend had the idea that in retaliation, she should have a tv in her window (facing into his) constantly playing horrible things, such as a horse shitting on another horse (her idea, not mine). Another friend recounted a story from earlier that night when she had accidentally farted loudly in front of her male roommate while he was eating dinner. She said nothing, then asked what he was doing that night. And finally the other friend had the fatbooth app on her phone, which I hadn't seen before, and loved. She took pictures of all of us while humping the air and yelling "I'm gonna make you fat bitch!". We all died at the results; Polish Princess's was the best, because her upper lip had pretty much disappeared. After these shenanigans everyone started to trickle out and I decided to stay over there because why head back to Astoria at that hour?? In the morning we slept late and got crepes for breakfast. I left after that, took a nap at my place, showered and then headed BACK to Williamsburg. We had made the decision to go treat ourselves to dinner at the Argentine steakhouse. Polish Princess was feeling down and this was technically my graduation night, though there was no way I was trucking back to Cuse for the ceremony. It was a deeelish meal but afterwards I was a little nervous--I had eaten an excessive amount and the jeggings I was wearing were a size too small. I had to be very careful when I sat or I would split my jeggings. I kept this in mind on my subway ride to the East Village and stood. I also got hollered at my every disgusting individual on that train car, which was a fanstastic.

I walked to the bar where I was meeting JM for her friend's birthday party. I took my time as she is usually late but by the time I arrived they still had not even left their apartment. I wandered around and started to get worried because my phone was dying. I texted both Ibanker and GF (gay friend) quickly to try and arrange backup plans in case I couldnt meet up with JM. No one was responding and I was close to leaving when both the boys texted back and JM arrived outside the bar simultaneously. Annoyed, I directed GF to the bar and told Ibanker to keep me updated on his night (I was determined to meet up with that fucker because at this point we hadn't seen each other since St. Patrick's Day--2 months ago. This was due to our trips, his being sick and working 18 hour days, seriously, and friends in town. Or these could all be excuses, but I knew it had to happen soon or this would all fall apart).
Anyway GF showed up and immediately hit it off with JM. We stood around chatting and laughing at the wasted guy who broke three different glasses at three different points in the night. Towards the end of our time at this bar it was very crowded and GF and I were having a hard time getting a drink. He pushed me to the front and ordered me to "show some boob". Instead of this I climbed up on chair (carefully, jeggings) and knelt on it so I stood far above everyone else. This tactic failed and GF still got served long before me, god dammit. After this we had had enough and leaving JM behind, hopped in a cab to meet Ibanker at a bar in Meatpacking. Of course there was a line out front and after my bragging to Ibanker that this would not be a problem for us we stood there for about 10 minutes while the bouncer looked past us. Even my skintight jeggings wouldn't do it. What a crock. Finally Ibanker met us outside and said they were heading to a bar in Greenwich. I was vaguely annoyed as we had just crossed town but I pushed that aside as I was happy to see him. He was with one of the Ibankers from the Euro trip and some super European girl I wasn't a huge fan of. This was GF's second time meeting Ibanker--the first was the John Mayer night when GF had been extremely wasted and not so friendly. I think he felt guilty about this; he paid for our cab ride and chatted it up with Ibanker. They ended up hitting it off which was good. The bar of choice was Automatic Slims, the scene of my extreme wastedness the night of the reunion with all the Ibankers. Luckily I kept it a little more together this time--I remembered all the conversations and didn't lose my jacket. At the end of the night Ibanker and I were the only two left from our group so I headed back to Union Square with him (because why go back to Astoria at that hour??). In his apartment he informed me that since he had been working from 7am to 1am most days his room was a mess. He wasn't kidding--the floor was filled with clothes, mostly suits, and every drawer and his dresser was open. While we were sitting and talking his closet exploded-everything on the top shelf tumbled out all at once. I died. We had a good night and I think we were both happy to see each other. He told me that he really liked me, but nothing was established about us, and I'm not sure if I want to bring it up. We also still do not sleep together, which is another thing that I would like to investigate but am a bit nervous to discover the results. For now things can keep going the way they have been and hopefully I won't get my ass kicked. And more good news--I made it through the night without splitting my jeggings!