New York!
We had a lovely time in New York. Went to West Village Friday night, ran around to different bars, flirted with guys and drinking and then going to the bathroom and not coming back. I didn't pay for any drinks, this is awesome. We didn't really meet anyone interesting, and we noticed that we were both changing the way we talked, more "likes" and "you knows" and no big words. I stopped telling people I was a Chemistry major or that I was planning on going to grad school, I just made up random stuff. We started talking to two guys from the Cayman Islands at one lounge and we had some trouble getting away. I don't know why guys think they have to lay it on so thick. After talking for a few minutes, he's asking me what it would take to get me to fly in for the next weekend. I'm not going to pretend that I would do it, and I don't wanna argue about it, stop being such a leech. He says, "Have you ever dated a black guy before?"
"No...."
"Yeah I can tell!'
"What? What do you mean, how can you tell?"
"You're looking at me like I'm crazy!"
"Well thats cause you're saying crazy shit!"
The next night I wanted to go to the East Village. I'd seen all these cool weird bars that I thought it would be fun check out. We ran around to a few bars, but they were all full of little groups of people who didn't want to meet random girls. I can't really blame them. We decided we didn't feel like paying for our drinks so we went to the hotel bar. I felt a little lame for going to a hotel bar but it was really pretty and I sort of liked how hooker-ish it felt to hang out at a hotel bar in a slutty dress getting 35 year old out-of-town guys to spend money on us. While we were there we met some very good looking Federal Agents, in town for the Iran Presdient's visit to the UN. This is a good demographic- sexy, succesful, fun guys who would be married if they weren't too busy rocking the shit out of their jobs. Hmm I know a guy like that...
The next morning my dad came to see us for a little while. He was in Long Island, with his mistress. Yeah. Earlier last week he asked if I would be ok with meeting her. I said no, I wasn't comfortable. He's only recently moved out of the house, and I'm in no hurry to meet the woman who convinced him to adandon his wife and kids. We come down to the lobby and guess who is with him! Great. In spite of all the shots of top-shelf liquor the night before and my disgust at being ambushed like that, I managed not to vom all over her leathery fake-baked face. Instead I focused on the little turquoise box sitting in front of her. I was well behaved and polite and appreciative, even as they talked about how much fun they had picking it out together at the Tiffany's in Long Island. Gross.
Other than that, fantastic weekend.
"No...."
"Yeah I can tell!'
"What? What do you mean, how can you tell?"
"You're looking at me like I'm crazy!"
"Well thats cause you're saying crazy shit!"
The next night I wanted to go to the East Village. I'd seen all these cool weird bars that I thought it would be fun check out. We ran around to a few bars, but they were all full of little groups of people who didn't want to meet random girls. I can't really blame them. We decided we didn't feel like paying for our drinks so we went to the hotel bar. I felt a little lame for going to a hotel bar but it was really pretty and I sort of liked how hooker-ish it felt to hang out at a hotel bar in a slutty dress getting 35 year old out-of-town guys to spend money on us. While we were there we met some very good looking Federal Agents, in town for the Iran Presdient's visit to the UN. This is a good demographic- sexy, succesful, fun guys who would be married if they weren't too busy rocking the shit out of their jobs. Hmm I know a guy like that...
The next morning my dad came to see us for a little while. He was in Long Island, with his mistress. Yeah. Earlier last week he asked if I would be ok with meeting her. I said no, I wasn't comfortable. He's only recently moved out of the house, and I'm in no hurry to meet the woman who convinced him to adandon his wife and kids. We come down to the lobby and guess who is with him! Great. In spite of all the shots of top-shelf liquor the night before and my disgust at being ambushed like that, I managed not to vom all over her leathery fake-baked face. Instead I focused on the little turquoise box sitting in front of her. I was well behaved and polite and appreciative, even as they talked about how much fun they had picking it out together at the Tiffany's in Long Island. Gross.
Other than that, fantastic weekend.
Labels: blaming my parents, booze
posted by Sarah at 6:08 PM
2 Comments:
Why hold back? Doesn't a fake-baked face deserve to be puked on?
Gave up...?
Anxious for more.
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