Birthday and Barfing

These are separate incidents unfortunately, but that would have made for an epic night in New York. Now due to that bitch Hurricane Sandy, I delayed my birthday a couple of weeks to let everyone regroup. Power was fully restored within the City and all the subways were back in action. And all the while, Guy Work Friend and I had been conspiring to create an amazing joint party. It took us awhile to decide on a venue but finally we agreed that the Roach Bar would have everything we needed--cheap liquor and no pressure. We made a facebook event, invited all our friends and I even ordered a cas dress from Rent the Runway.

The night arrived and a group of us walked to Roach Bar and discovered a huge line outside with a bouncer. WTF. This was exactly what we wanted to avoid and we figured choosing a dive bar in the middle of Chinatown would do the trick. Not so. Touche New York. We regrouped and walked into the Lower East Side, which is another place I wanted to avoid on my birthday. We chose probably the chillest bar we could to avoid the LES crowds, grabbed a table in the corner and a party we made. Our friends arrived, we drank and it turned out to be pretty good. Pubs was there of course, and our secret romance was still secret to our coworkers. Because of this, and my drunkness and excitement from having visitors, I ended up ignoring him a little bit, though I did not mean to. Atl later informed me that he seemed to be off to the side, looking sad, for most of the party. Oops. I was busy tending to my guests, including High School, who arrived towards the end of the night, once we had all relocated to La Caverna next door (a crazy underground dance bar that looks like a cave). Pubs won out though and I of course chose to take him home with me, as was becoming standard at this point. After some late night burgers and a little bit of my drunken attitude, I bid my 26th year goodbye.

 I was not leaving my old ways behind though, not just yet. The next weekend, Atl's friend, Charlotte, was in town, and there tended to be heavy drinking involved when she was around. We tried to keep it classy when the three of us headed to dinner in the West Village. We drank wine, ate our delish food, but soon grew antsy. These classy people weren't talking to us and we were getting bored. We needed something more. This came in the form of an invitation to a bar in Midtown, courtesy of one of Charlotte's bro coworkers. He was with a bunch of bro friends and this sounded perfect. So after some more wine we hopped in a cab and were on our way.

Upon arrival, we were disappointed in both the bar and the bros. We weren't expecting much from the bar, but the bros were not only ugly, but were also lame. So obviously we would need to drink more to get through this--that was the mature thing to do. Once I took a shot of well vodka, I had sealed my fate. I began conversing with one of the ugly bros and of course gave him my number when he asked. BUT--maybe times had changed. I had made arrangements with Pubs to meet up at some point in the night. Of course by this point he was already home, but I still wanted to see him. I told ugly bro to get me a cab. He may or may not have thought this cab was for us, but I informed him I was heading off to see someone in Astoria, leaving him annoyed on the curb as the cab pulled away. Once at Pubs' apartment, I apparently knocked him to the ground and then lay there with him for about 20 minutes just rambling. I then crawled into his bed and fell asleep fully-clothed.

I woke up  in the morning and was all set to go to brunch. I sat up and immediately laid back down. There was no way I was going anywhere, including on the party bus to Medieval Times, which I had told Guy Work Friend I would do later that night. This was the most crippling hangover I had had in months. I ended up spending the day curled up in a greasy ball on Pubs' couch. I would occasionally crawl to the bathroom to barf, impressing him immensely. He was sympathetic and told me I was welcome to stay. He even went out and bought me a care package, which consisted of ginger ale, crackers and tampons. Because of his kindness, I stayed the next night, and he didn't even seem to mind. I felt like a complete waste of life the next day though, when we actually made it to brunch and I was wearing my going out clothes from Friday night. My abs may have looked great from the puking but I myself looked like a deranged hooker. And he still paid. What a sweetie. As for me--time to grow up!

Hurricane Sandy-- You Stupid Slut

So like I was saying, it turns out that the storm was a bigger deal than I thought. I was expecting a free day from work and going drinking in the rain. What I got was much different. It started out uneventful--Atl and I were stuck in the neighborhood since the subways and buses weren't running, but to our surprise not much was open. We went to brunch on that Monday and spent the rest of the day lazing around the apartment. Shortly after brunch it had started to rain and it had been pretty windy since the day before. That evening it was getting progressively worse and this is when we both started receiving calls from our parents checking in. SA made her over since she lived in the neighborhood and her roommates were gone. After eating most of the perishable items in our fridge, we settled in to watch late 90's teen movies on netflix. At this point, the rain was pounding against our windows and the wind was gusting so hard that the powder from our brick walls was blowing into the apartment. We sat nervously through Drive Me Crazy and at the start of She's All That, the lights started to flicker. Shit,we were actually going to lose power. I sent out a few last minute texts and kept my fingers crossed that maybe it wouldn't happen. We didn't get halfway through the movie when there was a loud, hollow noise outside and everything went black with a sick buzz. We lit some candles and the three of us sat there in the dark, not knowing what to do. There was not a light on for as far as we could see and the wind was still blowing the rain around in massive gusts. We hoped the power would be back after an hour or two and when that didn't happen we went to bed.

It still wasn't back on in the morning. We were all stir crazy by then so we decided to walk to a bar or restaurant with a generator. We put on our rain gear (I wore sneakers) and headed out. Walking north on Avenue C, there was debris and wet leaves everywhere and a woman was on the corner crying. People were pumping water from the basements of the buildings and there was soaked food littering the floor of the supermarket. Cars were being cleaned out--the flooding was so bad that many of them were completely submerged. We are live on the southern end of Ave C, which miraculously received almost no flooding. But up further it was obviously not so good and I was glad to walk on. We cut west at 14th st and there was still not a place with lights. We overheard conversations that there was no power until 40th st and that we wouldn't have it back for 2 or 3 more days.

This was getting bleak but we didn't know what else to do, so we walked. We followed the masses of people doing the same as us. It was a mass exodus towards the lights. We walked through the East Village, into Gramercy, through Murray Hill, and into Midtown. The rumors had been correct--it wasn't until the 40's that we started seeing lights. Every single establishment was packed. People were crowding bank lobbies to charge their phones. The shelves at every store were completely empty. We went into at least 10 bars and restaurants looking for a table, where we could just sit and be warm, but every place was completely full. So we kept walking north. It was finally around 55th st that we were able to push our way into a Johnny Rockets. We sat dejectedly for a couple of hours while our phones charged and we ate soggy french fries. We then walked over to GA's apartment for hot showers then trudged back down 60 blocks before it got too dark out.

Atl and I were going to try and stick it out in our apartment but after one more night in the darkness and cold, we couldn't take it anymore. We packed our bags for the morning and starting asking around within our various friends who didn't lose power. Pubs had offered up his apartment in Astoria more than once but I wasn't sure if it would look to desperate to accept. But it made the most sense, since we  both had to work the next day and I could then have a partner in crime to fight for a cab, since subways still weren't running. So I ended up accepting, even though I had yet to go to his place. I hoped it wouldn't be too awkward. I had a surprisingly easy commute the next morning--only 2 buses. About 4 people showed up at my office, including Pubs, who had to walk across the Queensboro bridge into Midtown. After work we paid a gypsy cab $50 to take us to Queens, where it actually was not awkward despite him having 2 friends staying in the living room for a night. I ended up staying 4 nights, since his subway line resumed service the next day. Plus he had a new adorable orange kitten named Franklin that I loved playing with.

During my stay Pubs was extremely welcoming and I was really glad to be hanging out with him. I ended up returning to Ave C Saturday evening when our power was back. I had left Wednesday morning and our power had been out since Monday--almost 5 days. Obviously many people had it way worse than I did but still legit. Once we were reunited back on C, how did we celebrate? By going out of course. Most of the bars and restaurants were open again, though not all. We had dinner then I met Guy Work Friend and his friends at DBA. We spent most of the night freaking out over a candle on the bar which had a religious skeleton that we nicknamed "Zombie Jesus" and then one of the friends accidentally spilled candle wax all over my leg.

And we were back, ladies and gentlemen. Sandy can't hold us down!

Halloween Was Ruined.....By Sandy!

Based on the title, my documentation is not going to be the poignant, heartbreaking experience that some people had during Hurricane Sandy. But it was certainly a memorable experience for me and definitely not something I would like to go through again. And really if something like that does happen again--New York is fucked.

So in typical first-world fashion, I paid no heed to the warnings about Sandy. I was too busy prepping my costume for the Halloween parties I was to be attending that night. After a trip to American Apparel with the Pubs, it was finally ready--80's tennis player, complete with scrunchy, sweatband,  and retro tennis dress. I even had a racket case to carry around as my purse. It was no White Swan, but it still looked pretty awesome. Guy Work Friend met me at my apartment, as well as JM with some weird dude she had met following her around with puppy dog eyes. Luckily he was not coming with us to the party we would be attending.

Now the Pubs and I had been seeing each other more and more since the kiss outside my apartment door. We were hanging out at least a couple of times a week and I had invited him to attend the party, which was in my old stomping grounds, the Shwick. I was a bit nervous about this though, since no one at work knew about our romance.I hadn't even told Guy Work Friend and he was going to be hanging out with us, drunk, the whole night. I guess I overlooked the fact that GWF would be as drunk as us so he was none the wiser. Plus we were all pretty distracted by how shitty this party actually was. It was a giant rave at an old warehouse off the Morgan Ave stop. I guess it's fitting that I always end up at warehouses on Halloween. Me and the rest of Brooklyn--the line at the entrance was huge and once inside it was jam packed. We lost everyone else we were with almost immediately and I was pretty certain that moving through the stairwells was going to turn into version 2 of the trampling at the Love Parade. Every floor was so crowded we could barely make it to the dancefloor and once there could only stand it for just a few minutes. Getting to the bar was bad and forget the bathroom line. The outdoor space wasn't much better and I was pretty disappointed that we wouldn't be able to jump on the giant trampoline.

I'm not sure how long we stayed but the three of us reached our breaking point at the same time and Irish exited. On the way back to the Morgan Ave subway stop Pubs bounded all over the place in his costume (the boyscout from Moonrise Kingdom). But I was busy having a drunken yelling fit at some idiot kids who had been at the stupid rave with us, which I'm sure really impressed Pubs. He still agreed to go back to Ave C with me and we tried to play it cool in front of Work Guy Friend as we got off at the same stop together. And that was my Halloween ladies and gents. It's my own fault for agreeing to go to a rave in the Shwick.

But at least this year it wasn't me going to brunch in my Halloween costume--poor Pubs is the one who had to sit through brunch with me, Atl and her friend SA, wearing a boyscout uniform. On the way we noticed that the neighborhood was much quieter than normal for a Sunday morning. While eating we saw the announcement that the subway was shutting down that night. Not long after we all started getting emails that work would be closed the next day. I still thought that everyone was overreacting like they did during Irene but I was a little surprised that water was completely sold out at both the grocery store and Duane Reade. Not knowing what else to get, I grabbed a couple packs of trail mix and headed to the bodega where I paid $20 for 2 liters of water. I didn't actually think we would lose power. I thought this would be over the next day and was pissed at myself for leaving my rain boots at work. I was going to need those rainboots to go to the bar during the supposed "storm", which was my plan. This plan would be ruined as well. To be continued....

Pooper Rico Part 2

The next morning my stomach felt a little better, which was good since we were setting out early to go to our own private beach in Luquillo. Outside of the beaches are famous Puerto Rican food stands so of course we started our day with an authentic pina coloda before locating our beach. This proved a bit more difficult than we thought, since it was a nice day and the beaches were filled up. We ended up having to walk a ways, and one point were wading knee deep through the ocean. We eventually found our spot, which was off the beaten path and pretty far from a public restroom. But it was all ours and there was not a person in sight. We settled into our mini paradise and passed an hour or so sleeping and swimming. My stomach was getting progressively worse though and I was starting to panic. What the hell was I going to do?? The boys went for a walk and the churning grew unbearable. I knew I had to use this opportunity to take action. I could go in the water but since it was clear blue I figured that wasn't a good idea. So this being one of the lowest points of my life, I ordered Atl to keep watch while I dug a little hole for myself in the sand. I squatted over it and quickly took care of business, praying that no one would suddenly appear. I thank the good lord every day that I thought to grab some napkins at the food stands and then frantically threw sand to cover the hole. I ran into the water almost crying--half from relief and half from disgust with myself. Atl did not share the sentiment and was dying laughing at me. The boys emerged a few minutes later and found the two of us back on our towels, like nothing had ever happened. To this day they are none the wiser.

The scene of the dirty, dirty crime
The remainder of the afternoon was uneventful and when it started to get dark, we packed up to go. We set off on our walk and as soon as we started moving, my bowels did as well. I led the way as quickly as I could, knowing I needed to get to those public bathrooms asap. But the boys were stopping to take pictures of the sunset and I could not bear it any longer. I took off running to the bathrooms only to find them locked. At this point I was almost in tears and my secret was out. The boys knew what was up and immediately Politician Bro began to make fun of me, asking about my trip to "Pooper Rico". The only other option was going back to the food stands outside of the parking lot and I burst out of the car as soon as it stopped, like a bat out of hell. I ran into the first stand but the ladies room was occupied. I pounded on the door and a few unbearable minutes later an angry Puerto Rican lady emerged. I barreled past her and least had the luxury of being able to use a toilet this time.

Sidenote: For anyone traveling to Puerto Rico, PACK IMODIUM!

The boys wanted to explore the food stands but after my humiliating afternoon, I would do no such thing. I sat miserably on a bench until they were finished, with Atl keeping me company. On the ride back to San Juan, we stopped to pick me up gatorade and imodium, along with liquor and frozen pizzas, which I was actually able to enjoy without a problem later that evening. My health was back just in time because this was our big night out on the town. We opted to stay in Old San Juan and check out the bar scene there instead of going to the clubs by all the hotels. I was just excited to put on a summer dress and after pregaming for awhile, we headed out.

 It was a whirlwind tour, starting at the bar we had gone to the other night, another bar that looked like a cave, a club with a french dj playing with a $30 cover which we almost went to then did not, and then back to the first bar. It had become packed and people were spilling out onto the sidewalks and into the courtyard next door. I was excited to drink outside and some of Politician Bro's local friends were there. I thought one was pretty attractive but after my day of dehyrdration I wasn't exacty able to carry on a coherant conversation. I did however manage to talk to pretty much every guy in the bathroom line, which is where I spent a majority of my evening (just for peeing, luckily!). Finally Politician Bro decided that we should all go home, and I whined the entire way that it was early and we should stay out longer.

We certainly should not have, as we were all hungover as shit the next morning. It was another early one, since we were driving all the way across the landmass of Puerto Rico to get to Playa Sucia, one of the best beaches. I think all of us could've done without the drive and somewhere close to our destination we all decided we were feeling better enough to eat. My stomach was cured and I was ready to try some Puerto Rican cuisine, especially mofongo. The town we stopped in was eerily deserted and there wasn't another one for miles around. It looked like it was straight out of the 1950's and I felt like we were in the Rum Diaries. As I stepped out of the car into the hot sun, I was very aware of the outfit I had chosen that morning--70's style bright blue hot shorts from American Apparel and a neon green crop top. The Loveable Nerd nicknamed this my "beach costume".

There seemed to be about 3 food places in the entire town, but the only one that was open was the Chinese one. Not the best place to try mofongo but they had it and I ordered it. It tasted like chicken soup paste and Loveable Nerd couldn't even finish his. So there we were--the 4 of us, hungover, me dressed like an idiot, all of us laughing deliriously about god knows what, sitting in a Chinese restuarant in a random Puerto Rican town. Just an average day.

We finally made it to Playa Sucia and after exploring the cliffs and the lighthouse, headed down to the white sand beach, where we were the only tourists.




We spent a relaxing afternoon and were prepared to spend the evening, but this plan was foiled as soon as the sun started to go down. Little tiny bugs emerged from the sand and started to bite the hell out of all of us. We tried to take it, but ended up running for the car as quickly as possible. Nice beach day over. Not wanting to cut our time short, Politician Bro decided we were going to head to the surfing town of Rincon, which was on our way home. Once there, we pretended to be guests of one of the hotels so that we could use their pool, which had a swim-up bar. Of course there was a Puerto Rican wedding going on which we had to walk through awkwardly to get there (note I was still wearing my beach costume). At the bar, there was a man playing a guitar at an unbearable decibel but that didn't stop me from enjoying a delicious steak and a beer. Properly satiated, I started to fall asleep on the car ride home.

This did not last for long, as I woke up to us being stuck in the middle of a political rally. Puerto Rican elections were a couple weeks away, and PRs celebrated this event by parking their cars in the middle of the road, while blasting the radio, beeping the horn and waving flags. Of course, why wouldn't they? We were stuck in this shenanigan for over an hour, while Politician Bro screamed out the window that they would never get statehood and I feared for my life. We were finally able to get through when he told a cop that his wife aka Atl, was sick in the backseat. We resumed the drive, and I quickly fell back asleep to the lull of Politician Bro's story-telling.

We spent our final hours in Puerto Rico the next day back at the beach, this time at a local one in San Juan. It was just as nice as the others we had seen, even if it was a bit more developed. We then had a nice seafood dinner and a send off Pina Colada before Atl and I headed back to New York. We did achieve our goal of getting tan as shit and I got to shit outdoors, for the first and hopefully last time in my life.

Pooper Rico Part 1

Since my vacas over the summer weren’t exactly tropical beach destinations (San Fran, Mexico City), I definitely accepted an invitation from my old friend Politician Bro to come stay with him in Puerto Rico. He had recently moved there for a job clerking for one of the federal courts and I knew he would have a baller setup. I recruited Atl to come along and before we knew it, we were on a flight to San Juan, with a bunch of loud ass PR’s and cable tv (thanks Jetblue). Politician Bro picked us up upon our arrival with his friend Loveable Nerd in tow. Politician Bro had described him by saying that we “wouldn’t want to take his clothes off”. He was correct. Despite getting his phd at Harvard, Loveable Nerd was about 5’1, with Tevas and transitions lenses. But looks can be deceiving as SM turned out to be cool as shit. Once stowed in the car, Politician Bro’s nonstop talking began and didn’t stop til two days later, after he was able to “relieve” some stress. Atl and I were half asleep and were barely listening to the chatter. But seeing Politician Bro’s apartment in Old San Juan woke us up. It was on a cobble stone street with brightly colored houses, with its own balcony.

 

 

 Inside the apartment were high ceilings and modern furniture. The place was nice and within walking distance to the historic fort and the best bar in Old San Juan. Of course we headed straight there, the two blonde gringas attracted some attention on the way. This bar was filled with Puerto Rican hipsters, which was strange to see, and Politician Bro knew all of the bartenders. Now Atl and I have a habit of getting pretty wasted when we go out together. Luckily, after a long day and a long flight, this was not going to be one of those nights. After one beer and a free shot from a local New York City enthusiast, we headed back to Casa de Politician Bro to promptly pass out.

The next morning, I woke from a deep sleep to find the apartment empty. Politician Bro had to go to work and Loveable Nerd and Atl left me a note saying they were up by the fort at the local gourmet waffle place. I found my way there was unimpressed with the overcast weather. Luckily gourmet waffles were delish and walking around the Old town was much nicer than walking around Avenue C. Politician Bro managed to dip out of work for the afternoon, which was around the same time we finished exploring the fort and I finished chasing after every stray cat I saw. We hopped back in the car, to head out of San Juan to the rainforest. We obviously got lost on the way there and in true American fashion, none of us spoke the local language. We pulled off into a small town that looked shadier and shadier as we drove through. It was basically deserted, and made us nervous, since in his ramblings, Politician Bro had told us that PR was known for its violence. We then turned down one street to find a dead dog in the middle of the road. We took this as a bad omen and immediately back-tracked out of there.  Politician Bro asked the scariest looking guys in front of a gas station for directions, who turned out to be really friendly and told us where to go in perfect English.

We finally made it into the national park we were seeking, so that we could hike up to the waterfall. My stomach had been feeling slightly churney since we arrived and the road up to the parking lot weaved and turned through the mountains. Politician Bro was taking them at a high speed and blasting Ke$ha. I sat in the backseat, green as can be, with the chorus “We’re gonna die young” blasting in my head. Indeed. We parked without me puking and I followed behind them all shakily as we started on the trail. Luckily it wasn’t too strenuous, as I am not really an outdoorsy girl. We arrived at the waterfall and I was surprised that people were actually swimming in the water beneath it.

 

 

This looked a bit dangerous to me, but I gingerly entered the water at Politician Bro’s urging, and almost hyperventilated from the cold. He went directly for the churning waters beneath the fall and swam under. He motioned for us to join but I was not interested and neither was Atl. He kept calling out what became the token line of the trip “You won’t get hurt!”. His hero cry convinced Loveable Nerd and some teenage girls to go under with him, but Atl and I held back. We took a photo shoot in front of the falls and then I smashed my leg on one of the slippery rocks. I was ready to head back and luckily it was starting to get dark so the boys had no choice.

We walked back in our soaking wet clothes and headed out of the park to a local German restaurant at the bottom of the mountains. Yes, that’s right, a German restaurant. In Puerto Rico. What the hell. The place was pretty much empty but we sat on the patio with our German cuisine and beer, watching the creepy Austrian owner intently staring at the two young German waitresses. Eventually a German band came out of nowhere and the girls were forced to traditionally dance, while the man salivated over them.

Meanwhile we kept drinking our beers and strategizing how we could get to the Bioluminscent Bay. This was a place a little to the South of us, where the algae in the bay lit up the water at night. There were kayaking treks you could go on to the middle of the bay, but they were all booked up. We were debating if we could find a place to go swimming in the water and after we finished our German meal, we set out to find out, picking up more beer at an authentic bodega along the way. The entrance to the bay turned out to be a park with a carnival and bands playing, with no one swimming in the water and signs warning us not to. But Politician Bro being Politician Bro, managed to convince one of the kayaking companies to let us join last minute. My stomach had starting churning even more and I was not feeling great, but before I could argue, I was strapping on a smelly lifevest and stepping into a kayak. We were part of a large group of Spanish-speaking people and were the only ones that didn’t. The guide assigned to us, the gringos, didn’t seem too pleased about it, but he was extremely attractive so I forgave him any bad attitude. Unfortunately, my stomach was grumbling even more and I was desperately hoping I could avoid being sick until we were out of the kayaks. This did not make for a very pleasant expedition into the bay for me. I was sharing a kayak with Politician Bro who would stop paddling without me knowing, and I was shit at steering the thing. Under normal circumstances I am decent at kayaking but this was far from normal. We were going through a narrow channel with huge tree branches hanging down on both sides, packed tightly into a group of screaming PR’s. It was pitch black except for one tiny light on the front of each boat. We were constantly smashing into other boats or the giant tree roots and I was close to pooping my pants. When we finally made it out into the channel, I was about to jump out of the boat to take care of business, but swimming was strictly forbidden and our hot guide was watching our unruly group closely. It is unfortunate that due to my condition I wasn’t able to truly enjoy what I was seeing—a giant bay of still, sparkling water, illuminated even more every time a paddle touched it. It was really pretty awesome.

I somehow made it back through the channel and onto dry land. Once my lifevest was removed I took off running towards the bathroom, which was pretty much the equivalent to an outhouse. It was an unpleasant experience to say the least. Afterwards, I staggered over to my friends, who were relaxing on the rocks next to the water, drinking beer and taking in the scenery. I sat next to them, feeling like I was going to faint and praying nobody asked me any questions about where I disappeared to. We headed back to San Juan soon after, with Politician Bro rambling the entire way. Atl and I could barely stand it but what could we say when he was letting us stay in his nice apartment for free? To be continued….

He Pooped in My Bathroom

This particular night ended up going in a completely different direction than I had ever anticipated. It started out innocently enough--JM was having her birthday party at some bars in the Lower East Side. She was going to dinner at Spitzer's first, but I was tired and wanted to go home and nap. The night before was spent out with the Pubs, at dinner then seeing another dj at Ludlow Manor. And by seeing I mean making out in a chair next to the rooftop pool (a photog snapped a pic of us, which I have yet to track down). So after I was rested and ready to head out, I met GF and his new roommate at the Back Room until JM was finished with dinner. The Back Room is still filled with as many European tourists as it was over the summer with Little Aussie. We drank our booze-filled teacups and then checked to see where JM was. The answer was not good--Fat Baby. A notoriously B&T club with obnoxious music. How the hell she ended up there, I'm not really sure. But it was her birthday and we had to go. The scene inside was pretty bad, though not as bad as it could have been since it was still early. There was no line to get inside but there was wait to get to the section where JM's party was, since it was being blocked off. We waited for awhile and I grew grumpier. Once we were allowed in and tracked down a waitress to take our drink order (since we couldn't get back to the bar), half of JM's party decided they were going to leave. I was beyond annoyed since we had just fought to get there, and without even meaning to said "fine, go wherever, we will just fucking meet you after" in the bitchiest voice, complete with an eye roll and a little hand wave. Everyone looked at me in surprise and I didn't realize how bad it sounded until I saw GF cringing. Oops. This obviously did not stop people from leaving, but since there were now fewer of us, we were able to work our way to the bottom floor, which had basically no one there. With easy access to the bar, things escalated fairly quickly. My bitchy outburst had sobered me though and I pretty much stayed that way.

Now here is where the night begins to take an interesting twist. I had received texts from both Yahtzee and Slonks, inviting me out to their friend's b-day party at a bar in the East Village. It took me a bit to put two and two together but I figured out that it was for Deux's Rapey Friend. I hadn't seen him since that night and I knew I was bound to run into him sooner or later. I was interested to see if this situation would Slonks would go anywhere, after our post-Atlantic City/pre-Europe psuedo encounter. So I figured I may as well go big or  go home and I decided to make an appearance at the b-day party. Both Yahtzee and Slonks had made this bar sound exclusive, so I was worried about two of the people in JM's party--her wasted friend and her gangster looking date. They could not be entering with us, so like the bitch I can be, I corralled GF and his roommate into a cab yelling at JM and co to follow behind us. No need, since this "exclusive party"turned out to be located at in the bottom floor of an Eastern European restaurant. There were about 15 nerds standing around, most of whom left not long after I got there, including a very drunk Deux and his date. Rapey Friend was also there with his new girl, who looked on as he gave me a hug and said he was glad to see me. Yea, yea, take me to Slonks please. Slonks was pretty drunk, but what else is new and he still seemed pleased to see me. Luckily JM and her party found the place and joined us. Rapey Friend hit on her as he was leaving with his girlfriend and I chuckled to myself. Yahtzee and I of course recounted the Croatia story for everyone who was still present, before I turned my full attention to Slonks. We ended up closing out the bar with JM and her date before emerging out into the night. The plan was to go to another bar but JM decided to head home and left alone with Slonks, I realized how drunk he actually was. I decided pizza was a better option, so we went to the place near my apartment since we were close by. He shoved his face with pizza like a slob and I was not impressed. But he was wasted and subletting all the way out in my old neighborhood in the Shwick, so I felt bad sending him all the way back there. I decided he could just stay over but nothing would be happening between us.
This decision was solidified after he emerged from my bathroom. I walked towards it, since I had forgotten to take my make up off and I heard him say "why are you going there??" in a panicy voice. It was then that I smelled it. A whiff of something foul. He had pooped in my bathroom. Pooped in my bathroom?!! I was immediately disgusted and couldn't even look at him. I went straight to my bed and rolled to the very edge to face the wall. I woke up a few hours later, turned and opened one eye to see Slonks next to me. He was wearing all of his clothes, including his jacket, and was under all the covers. A couple minutes later I heard him wake with a start, hesitate, get up quickly and run out of my apartment. Satisfied  I rolled over and went back to sleep.
I recounted the story the next night at dinner. MM was in town with her friend and Atl had gone with me to meet them at what turned out to be the worst sushi restaurant I've ever been to. We had a good laugh over that story though and my interest in Slonks had been eliminated. I then took MM and her friend out on the town, but was tired and just couldn't get my head in the game. Luckily the three of us had some good convos and a lot of fun making fun at MM's houndstooth-printed pants. But I ended my weekend where it began--at some shitty bars in the Lower East Side.

It's Not For Everyone...

The unfortunate thing about moving to Manhattan are the inevitable houseguests, and I don't mean vermin. Once word gets out that you are living in New York, you are done. People come out of the woodwork and ask to stay with you for a weekend. Some people, like my close friends, I do not mind hosting at all. But with others it's rude. And some people you can't turn down, such as family. I had this realization when my little cousin called me out of nowhere one night. I knew what was coming and there was no way I could fabricate a believable lie quickly enough. So this is how I got stuck with my military cousin and his wife driving up from VA Beach for the weekend. Now, I like my cousin just fine, but we do not have a whole lot in common.I knew this was going to throw a wrench in my plans for the weekend, and more importantly my, ahem, social life. I was also going to have to sleep on our pull-out couch for 2 nights and I was not pleased. But I had to bite the bullet, so after coming home from a terrible day at work, I took them to dinner at my fave German beer garden up the street. My cousin had a giant stein of beer and I thought nothing of it. Afterwards we headed to Ave A to meet up with Russian Rocher, who had very randomly run into JM and her boy toy as well. After vetoing Niagara Bar due to the crowd, we went to Drop Off Service. My cousin bought me a couple beers and we drunkenly gossiped about our family. We stayed for an hour or two before heading home around 2 to go to bed. Definitely not a huge night for me though still relatively fun.

However, it must have been a big night for them. I wasn't thinking about the fact that my 23 year old cousin and his wife, who live in the suburbs, never go out. I pretty much always forget the fact that those who don't live in New York, often times aren't used to going out and drinking the whole night. This was apparent to me at 11:30 the next morning, when I was wide awake and ready to head to brunch and they had not budged. When I peeked in to check on them, there was a garbage can next to the bed and I knew it was over. I waited around for another couple hours and when they still had not moved, I headed out for the day. Atl and I got food, went to the San Genaro fest in Soho and ultimately ended up at a bar. I was off the hook for awhile as the fam was heading to a Yankee's game (of course).

We regrouped later that night and I had no clue what the hell to do with them. GF wanted to meet for dinner and I decided on a not very trendy Thai place near my apartment. One of GF's gay friends was having a bday party at a bar in Soho that night and I was pretty concerned about how the fam would fit in. Luckily they claimed they were tired after dinner so I gave them the keys to my apartment and headed off into the night. This was definitely for the best, as the bar was pretty classy, with bottle service. The pack of gays present were all very attractive and stylish, so my cousin and his Etnie sneakers would have been a bit out of place. After awhile at this place we all went to Botanica bar for a bit, until GF had to call it a night. Upon my exit the gays all told me that I was welcome to hang out with them anytime because I am pretty, which I vainly relished in.

My night was not over though, since Yahtzee had invited me to Los Feliz in the LES. GF was a gentleman and walked me there. There was a huge line out front, but Yahtzee managed to get me in by lying to the bouncer that his friend had a table. I don't even think there are tables at Los Feliz but it worked and I skipped the massive line. He was with a group whom I did not know and he was trying to mack it to one of the girls, who not only did not seem interested but also had a couple other dork admirers present. Yahtzee tried to get me to distract one of them but the guy couldn't hold a conversation for shit and after a few minutes I gave up and ran around the place doing god knows what.

In the end, Yahtzee did not get the girl and the fam left relatively early the next morning. I'm not sure if I exactly showed them a good time in New York, but it's not my fault they can't rally or easily walk up five flights of stairs. Luckily they were there to let me back into my apartment at 3AM and I was able to still go out, so all was not lost.

Freefest Year 2

It was about that time again--Freefest. I had gone the year before and why in hell would I pass up a free festival, especially when M83 was scheduled to play this year. Except first I had some shit to endure, though I was not aware of it yet. A couple days before I was supposed to get on the bus to DC, I was scheduled to have a wisdom tooth pulled. I hadn't thought much about it; I had had two others pulled earlier in the year and although unpleasant they weren't that big of a deal. So I expected the same for this one. I realized later, while the dentist ranked back and forth on my tooth forcing me to endure a horrible ripping pain in my jaw and blood smeared all over my face, that I should have expected the worst. Afterwards I felt like I had survived being tortured. And the next day was even worse--one side of my face had swollen up and I looked grotesque. The next day was not much better and I was forced to go out in public. I was extremely embarrassed and I immediately ruled out Freefest. Except the next day my face was less slightly less grotesque and I changed my mind.
After a bus ride which was almost as bad as the wisdom tooth pulling itself, I decided that I'm too old for bus travel. Luckily JW picked me up which improved my mood, especially because I got to see the cat whom I lived with senior year of college. He and JW and BK all shared an apartment now that they were living back in NoVA. Instead of going out we decided to rest up for Freefest day tomorrow, especially since due to my meds I couldn't drink. At this point I hadn't had a drink in about 5 days, which was probably the first time since I had moved to NYC. I knew that it wouldn't be possible for me to stay in NYC for the weekend and not drink, which was another motivation for Freefest. The next day we set off, with me sporting a huge bun that JW had done my hair up in and some 80s purple sunglasses to accentuate them. My face was basically back to normal which was a huge relief. We arrived at the Fest pretty early, due to a surprising lack of DC-area traffic and met up with some of JW and her new man friend's friends. We caught Portugal the Man' set, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I am also now on the lookout for the lead singer (an adorable little hipster) whenever I go to Brooklyn now, but that's a different story.
We then spent the majority of the afternoon all sitting on a blanket in the sun, watching bands that aren't normally my taste but that I really enjoyed such as Alabama Shakes and Ben Folds. I was satisfied and kept thinking about how much nicer this was than being stuck in the sweaty disgusting crowd at Electric Zoo. I was actually among people my own age! We also witnessed a hilarious yet tragic interaction while sitting.
Scene: Tooly looking dork in a UVA t-shirt wandering around. He goes to lay down in the grass and his chubby girlfriend runs up to him and plops on top of him. She is sitting holding his face and speaking sternly to him while he tries to look past her towards the stage. She isn't having it and grows more heated. She continues to speak, looking very upset, while he continues to ignore. Suddenly she winds up and slaps him. Tool has no reaction. She dismounts and sits next to him in the grass with her head in her hands. Tool says nothing. A couple minutes later they both get up and walk away, to our dismay.
Not long after this, Richard Branson showed up on top of the stage and sprayed a bottle of champagne over the crowd. Just an average Saturday.

Soon, it was time to meet up with MM, Same Name Friend and Raver who had arrived at Freefest late. We wanted to watch Porter Robinson, but it turns out none of us could handle it. The crowd was just too young and sweaty so we watched from the background. I still enjoyed it but I knew I was just too old to be in the midst of it anymore. Then it was time for my highlight of Freefest--M83. I had loved them when I had seen them in the spring and this time was no different. Except we arrived to the stage much later than I had wanted due to multiple food and bathroom runs. We had about 12 people in our group at this point and it was proving difficult to keep us all together. We were forced to split off at the beginning of the set which made squeezing into the crowd easier but it was next to impossible to get anywhere even close to the stage. So I had to make due with the back but JW took care of business as she yelled "BYE" and "Uhuh!" to everyone that tried to get in front of us. At one point she even started physically blocking people with her body which caused them to be utterly confused and me to laugh. M83 was glorious and French just like last time and we were all enjoying it. A sampling:

Back at the apartment that night, JW and I stuffed our faces with carrot cake she had made for her man friend's bday. We watched this video about 12 times in a row, while dancing in our seats and yelling "cake cake cake!" in between mouthfuls.
All it took was a missing tooth, M83 and a weekend away from New York to remind me that I could indeed have fun without drinking.

The Pubs

At the end of September, things took an interesting turn. Maybe I was being rewarded for being good and not going out as much. Or maybe after a few somewhat crappy weekends in a row, things were bound to improve. Either way I was pleased about it.
I had been friendly with a guy at work ever since we traveled to Boston together for a work conference over the summer. Upon our return we would exchange friendly emails, mostly about nightlife and music, and occasionally run out to pick up lunch together. He was the Associate Publisher at my job, which is a fairly high-up position, except he was only  a few years older than me. He was a hipster and a nerd, with a Brooklyn accent and Warby Parker glasses. The combination of all of these things was pretty endearing but I hadn't given it much thought, other than that we were work friends. I also knew that at the conference he had a girlfriend, but as we hung out more was picking up that they were no longer together. We were talking more, especially at work happy hours, and one day I invited myself along with his plans, without meaning to. He was seeing a dj at the Bowery Hotel that night, which was right near my apartment. Of course he said I was welcome so I invited Russian Rocher so it wouldn't seem weird. Except she bailed and apparently his friends did too, since he showed up alone as well. We had a good time chatting and drinking, although we never did see the dj, since it was a work night and I couldn't stay out that late.
About a week later, another coworker, a Russian guy from the IT department, was hosting a bbq at his rooftop in Brighton Beach, for everyone who had worked on a particular project. This included myself and the Pubs. So that Saturday afternoon I trucked out to the bowels of Brooklyn, which took forever (no one bothered to mention to me that the B train does not run on the weekends). I finally made it out there, with my tortilla chips and guac in tow. The rooftop was huge and filled with booze and treats and a super cute Golden Retriever named Byron. My boss was also present, but she is cool as soon as she gets a drink in her so after a glass of Sangria we could all relax. Turns out we did plenty of relaxing as we stayed there for almost 8 hours. We feasted on sausages and grilled salmon and all sorts of other delicacies, all the while taking shots of Russian Standard and Mezcal every 20 minutes (or it seemed like it at least)...

Needless to say, things escalated. Nothing cray, but I spilled fish oil on my boots, my boss was yelling out work gossip and towards the end of the party, the Pubs had disappeared into the apartment for quite awhile. Or so we thought. It turns out that he thought he had gotten too drunk so he pulled an Irish exit and  walked back to the subway. My boss and I were ready to leave so we told him to stay put and we snatched him up so we could all go back together. Since it was only 10 I was ready to make a night of it and when Pubs mentioned he didn't want to go where his friends were going I invited him out with me. He agreed and we ran off the subway in Union Square, with my boss eyeing us suspiciously I'm sure. Yahtzee had invited me out, but he was with the rapey guy I had hooked up with not long ago so I vetoed that. Instead we headed to the West Village to meet up with GF and his friend who was in town. After not being let into Employees Only, we decided to head to Automatic Slims. The last time I had been there was with Ibanker last year and though it was always fun with him, the place sucked without a preppy person's protection. It was filled with a bunch of fat rich girls who don't have to be pretty because they are rich and who also have a bad attitude. After almost getting in an argument with one who purposely would not move out of my way I decided that for everyone's good we needed to leave. We headed back to safety in the LES, and on the way, I danced around to the techno I was blasting on my phone in the cab and yelled about the stupid fat girls. The Pubs was seeing a new, very classy side of me, and I'm sure he was very impressed. We went to the Thompson Hotel, where for some reason we all kept yelling "You're so stupid Karen!" a la Mean Girls. We were drinking and I even danced, which I tend to be shy about in front of people I like. At this point, I had determined that I did indeed have a crush on my work friend.
But this did not stop me from kicking the bathroom door when the girl ahead of me in line took too long. The mix of Mezcal, Russian vodka and salmon clearly wasn't working for me. Pubs still accompanied me to another bar when I yelled that I was not ready to go home when we finally left the Thompson. We ended up at Bedlam, across the street from my apartment, where we ordered two drinks, took a sip and then left them  to go get pizza. And as I was shoving pizza into my face like a lady, he told me that he had a crush on me too. I wiped the cheese from my face and smiled. He walked to my door and then he kissed me on my stoop. Definitely one of my most romantic NYC moments. Of course, I put a damper on it by hinting that he should come upstairs and thank god he paid no attention to me.
He did pay attention though when I was blabbing about how I was going to meet him at the Astoria Beer Garden the next day. He texted me in the morning, and after I shook off my hangover and went to brunch, I met him in my old hood where we had a nice afternoon drinking beer, walking in the park and chatting. We even took a stroll by my old apartment, and when I saw a face in the window, I took off running (creepy Ginger roommate?!). Besides that encounter, it was a nice little day and he seemed very sweet and genuine. Looks like I had made the classic mistake of getting involved with someone at the office....

Settling Down in September...?

After the debacle of Electric Zoo and my nonstop summer of working, traveling and partying I was ready for a break after Labor Day. I needed to take it easy on the mid-week happy hours and going out. I also needed to wake up some weekend mornings not being hungover or having an annoying dude next to me, pressuring me to sleep with him. Enough was enough, so I vowed to settle down a bit for the month of September. And for the most part I was successful. I had fun without going out and drinking. Here are some examples:

Russian Rocher has a friend in New York who is a jewelry designer. I have met her before and she is hilarious. And though her stuff isn't exactly my style it is still really cool artistically (check it out—WXYZ jewelry). She was having a fashion show for fashion week not far from my office. So I headed there after work and was surprised to see that it was a legitimate runway show. We had rsvped late so didn't get a seat and had to stand in the back. We peered around and spotted the friend who came over to greet us and thank us for being there. I couldn't help looking behind her at all the ridiculous people walking in—waif-like girls with hair dyed purple, gay dudes in all black, and older people in European fashions. Of course I had chosen to wear a simple, professional and not at all fashion-forward dress that day. The friend left as the show was about to start and one of the fashion interns working the show told the two of us to grab two of the empty seats. Russian Rocher booked it to two of the seats in the front and before I knew it was front row at a show at Fashion Week. Guess my dress wasn't so bad after all. The show was short but cool and her jewelry looked great on the models. We hung around for a bit afterwards chatting with her, and then instead of making a night of it, I headed home.

Another wholesome time was a couple weeks later, when I had to return to Cuse for an old friend's wedding. I was taking my dad as my date, since he was also invited and there were no other acceptable options. We drove through the Finger Lakes to watch the ceremony where we sat in the back, bored. We then headed to the reception where we knew no one besides the bride's family. I had met this girl in Rochester and she had remained my good friend throughout elementary school, junior high and high school, but we had lost touch during college and I was even surprised I was invited to her wedding quite honestly. She now lived in Jersey with her husband and not surprisingly was not keeping the best company. Her wedding party was made up of white trash, besides her sister. One girl even had a lovely bear paw tattoo on her shoulder. My dad was pissed that one of the guys sitting at our table was a die-hard Republican but the girl sitting next to me turned out to be another girl I had known in Rochester. The icing on the cake though was when her maid of honor was wasted during her speech—it was basically her slurring that Kristen was her best friend for about ten minutes and she actually yelled at the crowd when they started talking. It was so awkward and my dad and I shifted uncomfortably in our seats. We didn't stay much longer after that and I spent the remainder of the weekend suburban shopping and getting in quality family time.

Of course there were times when trying to take it easy pissed me off. Like the night I tried to go to the Met rooftop with Russian Rocher and JM. It was hot as shit that day and as soon as we got there it started raining. We waited in the drink line anyway and literally as soon as we made it to the bar they closed. We then walked around forever trying to find someplace to eat but no one could agree on anything and JM had brought an awkward dude with her—she claimed they were just friends but he clearly viewed this as a date. My blood sugar was getting dangerously low and this is when people such as my mother and my exboyfriends knew that it was absolutely essential that I get food immediately or my inner bitch would not be tamed. Unfortunately these girls did not know this and the bitch came out in full-force. I felt bad even as it was happening but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Luckily soon after we found some mediocre Thai, but the damage had already been done. I calmed down a bit but was not myself for the rest of the night. So heading down to a bar filled with NYU kids in Midtown to meet another one of JM's friends, did not help this at all. I was grumpy and pissed that wasted freshmen were bumping into me, especially after Electric Zoo. We stayed for a bit and I tried to have a couple drinks but it got to the point where I either needed to get wasted and make a night of it or go home. I responsibly chose to go home.

And finally, here is when I was not responsible and fell off the wagon. I had to go to the Finincial District one weekend to meet up with ED and her boyfriend for lucnh. They had just moved to New Haven and I hadn't seen her in awhile. After we caught up I decided that since I was downtown I might as well text Prom to see if he wanted to meet up for a drink. Of course he did and we headed straight to the bar. Atl and her work friend were also out and about so I invited them along and this was the start to our daydrinking bender. We hit up a couple bars before a storm rapidly moved in. We walked down to the water to check it out and on the walk back got pelted with flying dirt and debris before we had to take cover in the nearest bar of course. We were just going to stay for a drink but that of course turned into multiple. By then the Georgia game was starting and Atl wanted to see it since that was her Alma Mater. We cabbed up to Pourhouse in the East Village, since it was a UGA bar and one of the ones yet to tackle on our Bro Bar Tour. On the way we blasted classics like Bombs Over Baghdad and Glycerine on our phones. We stayed in the Pourhouse for about 30 seconds before saying f the game. It was probably one of the most crowded places on earth at that moment. We walked in the rain to my fav bar the Ninth Ward, where Atl quickly picked up a British kid who joined us at our table. I was pretty satisfied to drink Purple Haze and eat fried pickles but Prom didn't like the British kid and copped a tude with him. I didn't like him because he had never heard of Old Gregg. The Brits are persistent in a charming way though and he accompanied us to Niagara Bar, the next (and my last) stop on our Day Drinking Tour. Before leaving the Ninth Ward I had to close out the tab I had started at the bar, because the one at our table obviously didn't provide me with enough drinks. There was a minimum though so instead of buying a drink and giving it to someone like a normal person, I decided to take a shot on my own. And not just any shot—Sambucca. The bartender asked me if I wanted it served with ice and I said warm was fine and pounded that baby by myself. Classy. Off we went to Niagara and bought a round of shots and drinks on the Brit's tab. I also at one point caught Atl telling him that if he planned to move to New York he was going to have to learn some American slang, such as “suck it” and she demonstrated the accompanying motion. I was standing and teetering at this point and I knew it was time to leave so I comanded Prom to take me home. On the way we stopped for pizza and after devouring my slice I started to pass out on the couch while poor Prom sat there awkwardly. I woke up to him saying he had to go and rushing out of the door. I nodded to myself because even in my very intoxicated state I knew this was a very good idea. Lucky for me Prom is not a bro and did not try and take advantage of me.

And that wraps up most of my September. Pretty tame, though the last incident was a poor showing, it proves I still got it.

My Gay Date

While I was traveling in Mexico City, I heard from someone that I never expected to hear from again and had forgotten about, quite frankly. The friend that Russian Rocher's friend had tried to set me up with. I went to his bday party and then found out at the end that I was talking to the girl he was dating. Which is why I never would have expected him to be gay, but we'll get to that later. So I signed onto my facebook one day and there was a message from him:

Hey! I'm not sure if you remember but we met at my birthday party several weeks ago. Anyway, I was wondering if you might be interested in grabbing drinks sometime? If you're around this weekend, perhaps Sunday night would be a good bet for something low-key? Probably seems a bit weird for me to ask ... particularly 6 weeks after the fact ... but I'd be totally remiss if I didn't. So here goes. Haha! Hopefully talk to you soon

I was pleasantly surprised, though wary, since he was tagged in photos with that girl not long before. I waited a couple of days and then wrote him back agreeing to the drinks. The date went down about a week after I made my return. I was pleased with the place he had chosen—Gallow Green. It was a new rooftop bar, right next door to where Sleep No More was held and was themed similarly. I met him at the entrance, and my immediate reaction was surprise—how had I not noticed his apparent gayness before? His voice, gestures and mannerisms all seemed gay. There was no turning back now though and as we entered the elevator I kept thinking that the people next to us were wondering why I was on a date with a gay guy.

The bar was cool though, the décor was dark and rustic 1920s with candles everywhere and the staff in character. And since the drinks were strong I just pushed these thoughts aside and asked and answered the normal first date questions. He seemed very smart and cool and laughed at some of my sarcastic comments so he was alright in my book. More gay clues though—he grew up religious in a small Midwestern town and also made an awkward comment about the strip club across the street. This did not deter me though and I made the mistake of staying for three drinks. To my defense the atmosphere was really cool and it was a perfect summer night in New York with a view of the Empire State Building and the Highline. Plus he was actually really cool to talk to and laughed really hard when I called myself Rainman for remembering the date of his birthday party a couple months earlier. Too bad he had to be gay.

Or so it seemed. He sent me the traditional follow up text the next day and asked if I wanted to go to dinner at his favorite Cuban place near my apartment that we had discussed. I figured that I might as well scope it out once more, especially since it was right near my apartment. So I agreed, and met him for dinner. It was fine as it was before and we had normal conversation, followed by drinks at Zum Schneider, the German beer garden down the street. He seemed a little less gay this time and at this point I was thinking that maybe it was the religion and the wholesome upbringing that may be causing him to seem gay. After the date he walked me to my door and didn't try to kiss me and said that we would do something soon.

This soon came up sooner than we both thought—Russian Rocher was having an open bar at Down the Hatch in the West Village and her friend had invited him. Neither of us found out until the night before when we were texting back and forth. So that was to be our next and final “date”. I had shared, confidentially, with Russian Rocher, that I was concerned that he might be gay. She said she hadn't gotten that vibe from him but had never really paid that much attention. But her other gay friend was there and she was going to ask him for his opinion. And apparently I was not the only one with qualm—when speaking to her friend later in the the night she actually told me that Gay Date was concerned that I might be too tall for him. What?? I am going to take that as a sign that he is uncomfortable with his masculinity as most guys appreciate a tall girl and it's not like I'm a giant. I pushed this aside for the time being though as I didn't want an awkward situation for anyone. I rejoined Gay Date at the bar where he continued to buy my drinks.

Except while I was gone he had struck up conversation with RR's gay friend—on his own accord. I stood there for awhile, feeling like I was the third wheel on their own gay date. He even touched his arm a couple of times and when the three of us took a group shot, he had no clue about what shots to order. After the shot I excused myself to go to the bathroom and on the way RR stopped me and said that her gay friend had reported that Gay Date was questionable. I had figured this out on my own, and whether or not this guy was actually gay it was a little too ambiguous for me. He was also a little too wholesome and I was obviously too tall.

After the bathroom I told him I was leaving and he didn't look too disappointed. I then left and walked home slowly, feeling like I had learned a valuable lesson, thought wtf it is I have no idea.

To my surprise (and chagrin) Gay Date continued to text me for the next couple weeks. Luckily he was out of town a lot for work and didn't ask me on any other dates except for one, when I was conveniently out of town. After this, he figured out that it wasn't going to work, since he is a smart boy. I only wish he could be confident enough to face his true self, if that is actually the case.

E Zoo--I'm Too Old for This

I have been an electronic music fan for years, and as long as I can remember my friends have all made fun of me for it. That is until it became insanely popular. I returned from my time in Germany a couple of years ago to find that in the months I was gone, "edm" had become more and more popular in the US. This was no longer an underground thing that ravers and Europeans liked, it was now mainstream. When I went to Electric Zoo, an electronic music festival here in New York, immediately after my return, it had not gotten so out of hand and I had a really good time seeing DJs that I've always listened to. The same holds true when I went to Ultra in Miami a couple of months later. Though it was really crowded, there was a good variety of people. At the shows I have been to in New York since then I could tell the dynamic was changing. The crowd was getting worse and young, fucked up kids in neon were becoming the norm. I still loved the music though and since I had missed Electric Zoo last summer due to my lack of funds, I gritted my teeth and purchased the $350 3-day pass for this year's Zoo. I had my qualms but I never realized that it could be so bad.
GF was to be my partner in crime and he was pretty pumped since he had never been to a festival before. I got out of work early the Friday of Labor Day weekend and rushed home to change into a sparkly gold shirt with short shorts, with the grinch backpack as my accessory. We met up and felt like complete idiots walking down my street to catch a cab. We had a couple dranks in the cab on the way there, since we both like to stay away from the hard drugs (usually). I had brought an airplane bottle of tequila I had recently brought back from Mexico which was a real struggle to get down. Some young bros in the cab next to us started waving when they saw me trying not to gag, We were taking a ferry to Randall's Island where the fest was located and we spotted the line of neon well before we even drove up to the dock. We joined the masses and immediately felt old. Everyone around us was the exact same person--an 18 to 22 year old wearing minimal neon clothing and looking like they belonged to Gamma Phi Beta or Sigma Chi at Syracuse University. I was not impressed but hoped that things would improve once we got on the island. (Spoiler alert--they didn't).
GF and I still managed to have a good time though, as we always do, despite literally being some of the oldest people there. We danced around and drank and saw some of our faves like Hardwell and Ferry. A couple of people took some pictures with the grinch, but that was the only attention I got, since everyone assumed GF was my boyfriend even though he was wearing a midriff-baring lacrosse jersey and a pink bandanna. Or it could've been the fact that I was old enough to have babysat most of the other concert goers. Now for those of you that have never been to a festival it is pretty tough to deal with at times. It was roughly 150 degrees outside and very crowded. You are constantly getting bumped into and since I was drinking I spent a good amount of time in the bathroom line. Everything is overpriced so GF and I wanted to avoid eating. We went the whole afternoon doing so until we hit a wall and wondered why we were wandering around like zombies. We sucked it up and gobbled up some bad pizza like we would never eat again. We were instantly revived and were able to finish out the last couple of sets before heading home where I collapsed into bed, exhausted.
We had a whole other day ahead of us, so after stuffing our faces with brunch in the morning, we decided the only way to push through was to take a bunch of aderall. Back to the zoo we went, with me decked out in my neon Hello shirt, since we were going to be seeing my fav, Martin Solveig. Since this was a Saturday, it turned out to be even worse than the day before. It was just as hot, but even more packed with youngings and I literally felt like I was at a frat party at NYU. Every teenager from New Jersey, Long Island and Westchester had their parents buy them a ticket and give them spending money to purchase an insane amount of drugs. The scene was not pretty. Still, GF and I persevered and managed to see some awesome sets, like Bingo Players' and Sasha's (who is an oldschool dj and had been one of my faves when I saw him at Ultra). And of course Martin Solveig was awesome, as usual. This was the third time I was seeing him with GF and each time had been a crowded sweaty experience. This time was no different. We got there early and squeezed our way towards the front of the tent. It was about 20 degrees hotter under there than the 90 degrees outside and we were absolutely soaked. During my fave song, GF hoisted me up on his shoulders and I almost slipped off. I bounced around up there for a few minutes and was ecstatic when of the photographers in the booth came over and snapped a photo (I have been scouring the internet and have yet to locate this photo--I will love you forever if you do). But a minute later one of the bouncers motioned for me to get down, yet he did not chastize the 17 year old with the huge boobs waving around the French flag. (Boob Girl's pic did make it in the internet). Unforunately, GF and I made the decision to leave halfway through Martin's set to see Dada Life, who sucked big time. I also wasn't impressed with some of the others whom I normally like, including Benny Benassi. I noticed that even the music had changed--rather than the sets being a variety of styles, everyone seemed to cater to Americans' loveof testorone-esque, intense beats, which resulted in all the sets sounding pretty much the same. This was no longer music inspired by European nightclubs--it was the same beat played over and over at the Jersey Shore.
For the final day, GF made the wise decision to stay home. Luckily there were visitors in town who would be attending with me--MM and Same Name Friend were coming up from Baltimore and DC. After a sleepless night, I put on my neon halfshirt from Thailand and headed to Midtown to meet Same Name Friend for brunch. We were waiting on MM and her college roommate Raver to meet us at the hotel. After brunch, the two of us ate a bunch of pot brownies, since I could no longer endure this festival sober. This day was going to be particularly tedious since it was....Dubstep Day. I cannot stand dubstep but there were a couple of djs I did want to see playing and since I had spent so much on the ticket, I was getting my money's worth. After the two of them arrived and Raver donned her amazing rave outfit (skintight bodysuit with a light up bra, accessorized with about 100 bracelets aka candy) we hopped in a cab and were deposited at the gate. It seemed to be just as crowded as the day before, but luckily the crowd wasn't quite as young as the day before. Still a bunch of underdressed teenagers though so I popped another aderall and went on in. The day was what I expected--lots of insanely loud, nerve-grinding "music". We wandered around for a lot of it in a daze since the whole thing was a lot to handle. Everyone stopped to take pictures with Raver and her ridic outfit, which is saying a lot for these types of fests. She met up with one of their friends who had drugs aplenty for everyone, and despite my general rule of not doing hard drugs, I relented, since this was the only way I was going to make it through the rest of the night. This time actually wasn't bad, like it was the other times I have done these, and I was in a good mood just chatting away to whoever would listen. MM was on the same page with me though and halfway through Tiesto's set (which was nothing like the amazing set he played when I saw him in Switzerland) we decided to park it in the grass on the hill overlooking the fest. We sat there for awhile, like two old hens, bitching about how the scene had changed and it was just a bunch of kids. To emphasize our point, a girl came up to us and asked if she could use one of our phones because she was "16 and needed to call her mom". Of course we were the oldest and most responsible people there and we both agreed that if anyone from either of our very professional jobs could see us at that moment we would probably be fired.
Luckily soon after everyone else had had enough too and we all left early. We couldn't take the ferry back since we didn't all have the passes so we walked across the bridge into Harlem where we spent a few nerve-wrecking minutes looking for a cab. We then went back to the hotel, looking ridiculously out of place in our neon dirty clothing. We feasted on pizza in the room and chatted until I went home and manically cleaned my apartment for half the night since sleep was not an option with all the substances in my system.
So was Electric Zoo worth it? No way. It would have been if I was 20 or the scene was still the same as it was when I was 20. But a time-weathered 26 year old like me has no business being at an event like this. Unless I'm VIP....

The Homewrecker

And the misbehaving guys continue. This one was bound to happen though. I knew it in the back of my head and it had been building up for months. High School. My "friend" whom I had met while interning at MoMA when I first moved to NYC last year. As a review, he is from the Cuse as well and we had gone to the same high school (hence the name). At the beginning of our "friendship" we had gone drinking at the Astoria beer garden and then he stayed at my apartment til 6AM, with nothing at all happening between us. Ever since then we texted fairly regularly and met up to go drinking every once in awhile. We somehow always manage to see flattened roadkill when we are together. But what makes this all interesting is that he has a girlfriend, whom he has never mentioned to me. I know she exists because it is listed on facebook. I have of course done some research and have determined that they have been together for at least a couple of years. Yet he has never once talked about her, though I have never brought her up either. And this is how it went, until a fateful Saturday night changed everything with us.
Atl and I were fishing around for plans-- we were set on going out but there didn't seem to be a whole lot going on. I saw on facebook that a couple of JM's friends were at Arrow Bar nearby so I texted one and informed her we would be meeting her there. We trucked over and before we were even inside the bar we had a couple of bros talking to us. This was part of our plan all along, since we wanted free drinks so we went with it, even though one of them was a ginger. I greeted the girls but we were occupied with our bros and free shots so we didn't end up staying with them for very long. We instead accompanied said bros to Doc Holliday's down the street, which is a dive-y country bar, but I was excited that they had Labatt. More shots and more drinks and we of course headed across the street to Niagara Bar, which was our final stop on our tour of Avenue A. I know we met up with some of their friends but things were a little fuzzy for me after about 6 shots and I don't remember this too much. I definitely wasn't the drunkest one in our group though--the ginger had beer spilled down the front of his shirt right next to a cigarette burn.
Since we were all very classy we hopped in a cab and headed to the Thompson Hotel, where they for some reason unbeknownst to me, let us all in. Now the texts with High School had started earlier in the night, determining where the other was. This night High School decided to come meet up with me, even after I gave him wrong directions and he ended up in the West Village. Atl had disappeared with one of the bros at this point, leaving me with the ginger, which was never ever going to happen. High School met us both in the lobby and there was a 30 second awkward period until the ginger got the hint and left. Then the two of us started our own drinking tour of Houston St. stopping at 2 or 3 bars, though I have no idea where and for how long. We eventually made it back to Avenue C, where after picking up some pizza headed up to my apartment to continue drinking. At this point I was obviously extremely drunk and mid-pizza got up to pass out on my bed. He followed me and it went down. We didn't sleep together but it must have gotten pretty hot and heavy since I woke up in the morning with no clothes on. I panicked when I realized he was next to me and  was very uncomfortable. It's not that I don't like High School. I do have a little crush on him. But we had gone so long with nothing ever happening that I had just started thinking it never would and that we were actually friends. So of course I kept my cool, but trying to put my clothes back on without uncovering myself and telling him that this was "weird". Smooth. I also told him his girlfriend would be pissed, to which he had no response at all. Not fessing up even then. But the man was in my bed so I knew I needed to cut the tension. We watched the Old Greg video and made stupid jokes and things seemed to be back to normal besides us laying in my bed together. And to my surprise he even put my new Ikea dresser together for me when I asked. I was pretty hungover and didn't contribute much. Dresser looks great though. Then the two us and Atl headed to brunch, where we all drank Bloody Marys and I felt better. After sitting there for about 3 hours listening to the bartender's awesome playlist, High School took his leave and I haven't seen him since. We are back to texting again but I don't think either of us wants to be the first to bring up hanging out. And now I can officially consider myself a homewrecker.

Who Raised These Males??

It was my first weekend back in New York after being away for almost a month and I was playing it by ear. Friday after work I went to see Work Friend's band play at Bowery Electric but there wasn't much going on after so I headed home in a pouty mood. Yahtzee texted me on my way and said that they were heading to a bar right near my apartment. I was pleased at this as I didn't feel like going far. After waiting around for them I considered just going to bed until he called me from the cab and ordered me to come out. It turns out the bar was literally kitty corner from my apartment and I had somehow never noticed it before. I walked in and it was actually really cool. I saw Yahtzee standing with one of Deux's friend, whom I had met on several occasions, yet I hadn't really spoken with besides once on my bday. We will call him Razzle. He is good-looking but seemed like a total flake and player from what I had witnessed so far. He was determined to hook up with someone that night and unfortunately he set his sights on me. He greeted me very enthusiastically and I was a bit taken aback but took a shot with them all to take the edge off. Deux was there with a date, who actually turned out to be a cool girl. No matter since she will never be brought around again. As the night progressed, Razzle was laying it on pretty thick and I was trying to not fall into his trap. He was Deux's best friend after all, and I had already gone there with him, so I didn't want to do the same with his friend.
Atl showed up for a bit and commented that there was no way I was getting out of this one unless I was a total bitch to him--his claws were in deep. Luckily she was being hilarious as usual and had her huge bag with her from work which she kept hitting random people with. She left soon after, as did Deux and his date, leaving me with Yahtzee and Razzle. Razzle kept trying to make me dance with him, which I begrudgingly obliged. I'm sure he was sorry after he saw my terrible dance skills. This did not deter him though and he kept up his act. Yahtzee left without me realizing and I was really done for. Razzle said we should go to another bar and I agreed, hoping that by getting him farther away from my apartment it would be easier to fight him off. We walked up to Ave A but somehow didn't realize that it was just about last call. I decided this was my cue and said I was going to head home. Razzle said he would walk me and I insisted more than once that he didn't have to. Yea right. He walked me to my door and I was ready to dash inside when he pulled the line--"Can I come up and use the bathroom". Jesus Christ. At this point I just threw in the towel. I was tired and sick of fighting. Sure dude come up and "use the bathroom".
But there are times in life when you should fight and this was one of them. Even though Razzle was good-looking and a successful guy, he was pushy right from the beginning so I should have figured that this would continue behind closed doors. He is also friends with Deux aka the Midnight Rapist, so that was not a good sign. I unfortunately ignored these red flags. I as always informed him that I would not be sleeping with him but he was not ready to take no for an answer. He kept pushing the issue, trying anything he could think of to make me want to. He kept trying to reason with me that it was a good idea and the icing on the cake was when he asked if we could have anal sex. ABSOLUTELY NOT.
And to make matters worse Razzle was not the only guy who had tried to force himself on me recently. The Hipster was also pretty insistent about getting what he wanted, except he tried to put it when he thought I wasn't paying attention. Like I am not going to notice your giant wang coming near me?? I had blocked this from my memory because I had a little crush on him but I brought it back to the surface once he blew me off. So this is where the question arises--who raised these guys?? As a female I was under the impression that it is your prerogative to sleep and NOT sleep with whomever you would like and just because you allow a dude into your bed, doesn't mean that he is guaranteed sex. Yes this may make you a "tease" and I do admit it is a bit amusing to see these guys lose their shit over not getting what they want. But, males, if a girl tells you no, and you try anyway, well that is just a bit rapey. If I ever have children, and they are males, I will certainly be teaching them this, unlike the mothers of Hipster and Razzle who apparently never taught them that lesson. And after all that fighting I did never hear from Razzle afterwards, not like I would've wanted to. I also have yet to see him, and I am dreading it. It is inevitable, since he is friends with Yahtzee and I will have to have my game face ready.
The next day, conveniently, was a Girls' Day, which JM had planned with some of her friends and was exactly what I needed. We went to the Warm Up at MoMA PS1, which is basically a giant dance party in the courtyard of a museum. We saw some art, drank some beers and danced around. The only male we had contact with was a drunk hipster who came up behind us and lifted up his shirt revealing his fat gut. He would try and sneak in the background of our pictures with his fat stomach hanging out and I actually thought it was pretty hilarious. The Warm Up was followed by a long dinner where we ordered basically everything on the menu to share and cracked up at each other's stories. A perfect way to forget about terrible guys and their rude tendencies.

Hola Mexico! Part 2

After our experience at the fancy happy hour, Little Aussie and I spent the next couple days on the tour group circuit. We saw all the sights there are to see in Mexico City--the Frida Kahlo museum, traditional markets with food I could not identify, and a boat trip down a canal where a Mexican lady cooked us traditional food, which I devoured. The food in Mexico was amazing and I ate my face off the whole time, not getting sick once. We also spent time making fun of the fat couple in love in our tour group. Our Mexican tour guide also made a winning comment at one point when we were stuck in traffic (which was often). I don't know wtf he was talking about since I was dozing but I woke up to hear "the whale that participate in the movie of Willy, no?". It was classic.

Unfortunately the formerly beautiful weather had taken a turn for the worst. A dipshit hurricane was moving towards the coast and we were feeling the affects with rainy, cool weather. This literally put a damper on our touring so the last day we decided to buy a ticket for a bus tour which made a stop at a shopping mall, where we spent too many pesos on clothes we didn't need. It then took us three hours on the bus to get back to our hostel because of traffic. At this point I had had enough of Mexico City and just wanted to go home. But we needed to push through since we were meeting up with OG and his friends that night. We had met them the night before at a bar, where when I was animatedly telling a story I managed to knock a bottle of tabasco sauce onto my white shirt. I was hoping to make up for this tonight by not embarrassing myself.

We were headed to a neighborhood called Santa Fe that night, close to where OG lives. We had been told it would be a big night so Little Aussie and I decided to wear our going out clothes, which are perfectly acceptable anywhere but Latin America. As soon as we left our room we knew it was a bad idea as every male in a 25 mile radius stopped to stare and whistle at us in our short skirts. We ran quickly to where Alejandro was parked. He had served as our driver the past couple of nights. He drove a white Plymouth Neon and spoke zero English but he managed to get us to the hotel where we were meeting up with OG. Except he was late (because he is Mexican) and we waited for a half hour in the lobby looking like prostitutes. He finally met us and drove us to his friends' house, where we drank and played King's Cup. Except Mexicans have a weird rule--for one round you have to pretend to be an animal while not showing your teeth, so no laughing. This proved to be pretty much impossible as it was one of the most hilarious things I have ever witnessed.

After we were sufficiently drunk we headed to a nearby bar which was very strange because it was in the middle of a fancy shopping mall. The boys met up with some friends that they knew and I scored some free drinks. One of the chicos took a liking to me. I was sitting with his arm around me when he started talking about how he liked one of the girls who was there earlier. Little Aussie did not appreciate this and told OG, who then bitched him out til he left me alone. A bit later the original crew of us headed to a club which was close by and was, according to the boys, "the most exclusive club in Mexico". One of their other friends, who had a wooden leg, got us in since he was getting bottle service. We all took the elevator up and were let out in what looked like any club I had been to in New York or Paris and I was happy. We all danced around and I know at one point I was yelling the words to "Somebody That I Used to Know". Little Aussie was starting to buddy up with one of the friends and I decided I was bored. I walked over to the table of guys next to us and announced my presence with a loud "Hooooola!" and a wave. I chatted with them for awhile and gave my email address to one. I must have given my email address to 6 different people that night and luckily I have not heard from any of them.

Upon my return Little Aussie was making out with the friend and OG and I got into a deep discussion. The only thing I remember from it was him telling me that I am "one of the smartest girls he knows". He then made his exit to meet up with his current hookup and I danced with the wooden leg guy. I as usual stumbled around like a rag doll. Even a guy with a wooden leg can dance better than me. Finally around 6AM it was time to leave. Little Aussie had a hard time fighting off her makeout, as he kept trying to get her to go back home with him. He had the audacity to suggest we have a threesome then called her about 4 times when we were back in Alejandro's Neon. Shameless.

Luckily she did not go back with him as we needed to check out of the hostel at 10AM, a couple hours away. We were awakened a bit after 10 by church bells and cheering outside. Mexico had won the Olympic gold against Brazil in the final soccer game and the country was losing its shit. The two of us were as well, running around trying to pack and get out of the hostel. Finally we ran downstairs and Little Aussie jumped in a cab. She was flying back to LA to meet up with Baby J, then go back to Australia. I was planning to ride a few blocks with her. I was meeting up with OG's parents who were in town at their hotel so we could all go to OG's apartment together, as I was staying an extra night. However the cabbie informed me that the roads were closed because of the fans from the game and that it was not safe to walk. Little Aussie and I were forced to hastily say goodbye and I headed to the front desk where I stayed for a half hour trying to get a hold of OG's parents and of course ended up in tears. Luckily one of the workers convinced a gypsy cab to take me the few blocks to my destination, which cost me $20. He dropped me off in the midst of the crowd and I still ended up having to walk a couple blocks, pushing through the fans and getting cat-called.

In the lobby I had to ask the concierge to ask around to see if he could find the parents. I had met them a couple of years ago in Switzerland but I didn't remember what they looked like. As soon as they found me I burst into tears once again, and though they must have thought I was a crazy person, they were extremely nice to me and escorted me to their waiting car. The driver had a hard time getting through the crowded streets and it took us a couple of hours to get to OG's apartment. It was located in a mountainous and affluent area of the city and was in a gated building. I spent the day with OG, his parents, his brother and his sister hanging out. I felt like the foreign exchange student and it was nice to relax and not be running around constantly. In the evening they cooked me an authentic Mexican dinner and his dad offered me a Mexican cerveza which I gladly accepted. We then all watched coverage of the big win together as a family. My flight was early the next morning and I was sad to leave them all. I had survived Mexico, unscathed and without getting kidnapped. I feel lucky to have experienced one of the largest cities in the world (it takes 3 and a half hours to drive across it in normal traffic). But for such a huge city I found the people to be extremely welcoming. Though I was sometimes I overwhelmed, I enjoyed my time there.