My posts have been infrequent as of late, mainly because the last week or so of my life reverted to the epic partying days of yore (read: college 7 months ago).
Thursday night was another co-worker's goodbye party (we're dropping like flies over here). We went to a new bar near the office and drank for about five hours, while being served by dim-witted bartenders who didn't seem to know that a glass of wine isn't served filled to the brim. Thanks, ladies. I think I drank an entire bottle of wine after 2 "glasses" of Pinot Grigio. Hello, $30 cab ride.
Friday night was a co-worker's 30th birthday party, which involved beer pong in the East Village. The night started out with shots of whiskey, and after copious amounts of beer pong and jager shots, a co-worker put me in a cab. The highlight of the night was the 60 year old, obviously shitfaced bartender, who, after I asked him for a pint of Stella, he said, "With a smile like that, how could I refuse?" In my imaginary, more brazen life, I would have rolled my eyes and said, "OH PLEASE, just gimme the drink," but instead, I smiled coyly and said, "What can I say?" What a disappointment I've turned out to be. I blame it on the advertising.
Later, the same bartender gave me a million dollar bill for some reason. Too bad my African cab driver wouldn't accept it as real currency. I rolled into my apartment and made myself a grilled cheese, a late-night ritual of late, as my roommate has pointed out. My grilled cheese ritual has been happening because I try not to keep junk food around and the only good, solid drunk food I have that I can make while extremely intoxicated is bread, butter, and cheese. If I keep this shit up, I'm going to have to start keeping bulk bags of Totino's Pizza Bites on reserve in the freezer for such inebriated emergencies.
Abi and I had planned for dinner and drinks on Saturday night, so we went to Sette, an awesome restaurant in my neighborhood. Dinner was fabulous, and after splitting the cheapest bottle of white wine they had (Abi selected it from the "Low Brow List" as she called it). The busboy called us "guapas" and the waiter didn't charge us for the wine. Note to self: start wearing your hair down more often. It means free drinks for all.
After dinner, we headed to our favorite bar in the East Village for $15 buckets of beers. At one point, a man walked into the bar with a plush snowman decoration in tow. We spent the entire night slamming beers, singing songs, and hating on everyone.
Sunday morning brought the delivery of bagels from La Bagel Delight (our post-drinking ritual) and a day of Christmas shopping in my neighborhood. We kicked the shopping extravaganza off at Cocoa Bar, a coffee and wine bar accross the street from my apartment. Abi insisted that we go there because she heard a rumor that Naima, from America's Next Top Model Season 4 now works there.
Lo and behold, there she was. Serving me my hot chocolate. To quote Abi, "girlfriend looks busteddddd." Didn't you win $100,000? You're working as a barista next to the Russian laundromat I frequent? Damnnnnn, what a fall from grace. Abi said that she's probably living in this neighborhood and that means she's probably doing pretty well for herself, but I have this to say: I live in the same neighborhood and I didn't win $100,000—I currently work for like $50 more a week than the Assistant Manager of McDonald's. I am NOT impressed.
Thanks for the hot chocolate, though.
Labels: BK, Drunken Debauchery, Jay Oh Bee, NYC, Stupid Celebrities