Fuck I’m boring. I need a bender or something
That right there at the bottom my last post exemplifies famous last words. My head hurts more than you can imagine. Moving too much makes me feel ill. I’m gonna go back to boring and fucking love it once all light sources stop hurting my eyes. *whimper*
The high(/low)lights before I get into the thick of it: Femme Fatale is a great movie! * No Js across the Williamburg ruined my shortcut and almost my night * One day I’m just gonna flip and totally go Falling Down on public transportation. I can feel it * NBA Street 2 is damned entertaining but I suck at video games that aren’t fighting ones * I left my wallet, ID, and (thankfully) ATM card at home. I’m so smart, it’s scary * Pricks deserve to get cockblocked * When I said I don’t pick up leftovers, I lied (and I knew I was at the time) * I had a total freshman year indoor beach party flashback, but this time I played Jay-V * For the first time ever, I vomited on someone. By accident. And yeah, eww. * New rule starting today: it might be crude and rude, but I’m no longer travelling outside Brooklyn-Queens-Manhattan with someone if I’m not getting laid * I actually waxed on the wonderfulness of Nerve Personals and Friendster before all the lamers got on. The ironic thing being I used to lie to everyone about where I’d meet these people. “Around” being the most common one.
I’ll get around to the nitty gritty later. I need some aspirin first.
Aight. I slept it off. I’m good.
Friday — minus a focus group where I got $40 for saying “your site sucks” and a dinner with Mr. Daddy where the convo basically went “Daddy, I’m so faaat!”/”No, you’re not.”/”Yes I am, I’m so faaat.”/”No, you’re not…okay, you got a little chubby.”/”See…I’m faaat” — was a bust and I stayed in to be obsessive in downloading music. Saturday dawned equally as low-key until I caught in the rain bringing home my clothes from the laundry and gave up my dream of a Central Park show. I sat down and watched some TV for a switch and came across Femme Fatale. So much fun. By then, it was time to head out. Let’s note for later on that it was a good thing I wore my sneakers.
I set off to meet Fizzie to roll together. The quickest way (usually) to the LES from my way is the J, cutting across Queens and Brooklyn right over the Williamsburg. Everything was humming along until Hewes when they announced the shuttle bus and dumped us all out. I waited at Hooper with all the other rides and felt stoked that I landed one of the last seats. Until I got hit from all sides. The men sitting next to me and I were packed so close that my legs were sweating — with the additional insult of the dick on the right sitting sideways and putting his ass on me. But really pissing me off was the utter inanity of the conversation going on over my head. There was this “artist” and this other guy I had eyed when we got on the train because he looked ultrasharp talking about how wonderful it was that the “artist” was rich (oh, excuse me that his folks were rich) and he could afford to bum around living in Malibu and traipse about the country just to hang out. Yeah, fuck that kid. Meanwhile, the bus was caught in traffic and moving slower than people walking across the bridge. I was heated by the time I got to Delancey and Essex.
I strolled over to Fizzie’s place to find him dazed by video games in b-ball shorts, a.k.a. the usual. He used my answer of “I’m not sure yet” (the question being “so where are we going?”) to ignore me and keeping playing while I made the drink. Major mistake. Jay-V and others can confirm that a drink made by my hand is gonna be pretty stiff since I lack the depth perception to agree on a reasonable amount of alcohol in a glass. Not quite “vodka with some coloring” but close. We had a bottle of Smirnoff in the fridge with about 1/4 left and I decided to split the difference…in two coffee cups. It was pretty strong, but we downed (well I sipped) it like pros. I nagged his ass to make it speedy on the game and he convinced me to play a round of Need for Speed. I began to rethink my PS2 in the bachelorette pad idea when it was revealed that I was too stupid to drive in a car game. See, that whole no license thing is about me protecting the little people. I gave up and went back to sipping as Fizzie played NBA Street 2. The announcing slayed me (Wes head represent!) and I speculated how exactly the recording session for that went on. Did he sit in a room just think of ball related disses or what? (Jay, got any insider scoop?) I was also thrilled to see Darryl Dawkins as one of the people Fizzie played because I met him at Newark Airport back in the day. That man was scarily huge.
At once, I got phone calls from my friend C and FFPGINOANP (soon to be renamed when I’m feeling creative cause it’s a bitch to find and paste..erm, type). He had popped up again Thursday, surprising the hell out of me. What a sneaky move it is for a guy to pop up after you’re basically written him off! Everyone was in Fizzie’s neighborhood and wanting to hang out. It was really like summer for a change. I hurried Fizzie out the door and we went to where C was first. And when I got to bouncer, I looked in my bag and realized a big one: I had left my wallet at home. D’oh! But, it’s good to be a girl sometimes cause he just quizzed me on my b-day and let me in regardless. We chilled for a sec and with a “we’ll be right back” popped over to Orchard where FFPGINOANP was with his friends.
We stroll in and I plop next to him. Intros all around. I only partially cared to hear the names of the “friends” (in quotes because it was later revealed that they weren’t really), so we’ll call them German and Bitchface. Fizzie and I heard that it was last call (at only like 1:30) and hurried to order lemon drops since it was just about the only appealling thing we could find. The total of that was about $14. As the bill was being divvied up, Fizzie threw in a $20 and then Bitchface had the nerve to ask us if we were putting something towards the tip! Fucker. We convinced the three of them to abandon plans to go somewhere up in Gramercy and come with us back to the other place. (I could tell you the magic word that changed their set minds, but then I’d have to kill you.)
Back at the spot, we sipped on the house peach ice teas in a group. At the corner of my eye, I noticed strange body language going on between German and FFPGINOANP and Fizzie and I did the play by play. Head tilts, little smiles — so flirting. And then bang, the kissing and disappearing. I raised an eyebrow, amused, and we traded laughs. Definitely not laughing was Bitchface who looked pissed enough to fry an egg on his face. Someone asked me about where the bathroom was and jumped up to “show” them because curiosity has always been my Achilles’ heel. (It’s a kitty thing.) I think it was around then that the night began to take on a vintage Wes days vibe. The fact we were all generally drunk off our faces only added to it. Alcohol: the great age equalizer.
When I came back, Bitchface was even pissier and making his way out. He wanted me to pass on a message he left. (Yeah, no one cared though.) A minute later, back came FFPGINOANP and German. He plopped next to me and she hung around for a few mins before leaving. I smiled at him as sweet as sugar. “How’s your night going,” I asked. “Alright,” he replied. “Yeah, it looked like it. We saw you in the back, tsk, tsk” Banter, banter — you know the deal. I obviously wasn’t mad or anything. Like I said, all very collegesque — not that the boys I kinda liked kissing other girls in front of me happened too much in my time. I was pretty unfazed but I did put it out there that I don’t pick up other girls’ leftovers. Soon after, the group of us were off to Sapph.
There, we kept drinking and I proved myself a liar. About the leftover thing. I was surprised but not very. I’m prone to whims. The frat house indoor beach party flashback came when one sec I was standing next to a pillar to the side of the room and the next I was on my ass on the floor. Thank God I wore my sneakers. FFPGINOANP said later that from his perspective, one sec I was there talking and the next I dropped out of sight. I have no idea how I got there. I was straight up perplexed as Fizzie and C rushed over to help me. “What are you doing on the floor?” Fizzie asked. I replied totally confused, “I really don’t know” and they hoisted me up. Thus ended my drinking. Actually, the whole group of us got cut off. Good times.
So, it’s stupid late and FFPGINOANP suggested that we all hang out at his house. Fizzie was really into it until he remembered “wait, he lives in Jersey and I live 4 blocks away. I think not. Laters.” Smart boy, that Fizzie. Chugging my bottle of water (that mysteriously appeared) the whole time, I went in a cab to PA to get on the bus and stand. Somewhere on Blvd East, I felt the urge to vomit. And I sorta did. Lightly. But some spilled on the guy sitting down underneath me. And his facial expression was like “is that water dripping on me?” Yeah…some of it. So, I just walked straight off the bus like a fare beater and sat on the side of the road until I felt better. Wondering where the hell I was and what I was gonna do sorta passed through my head, but I was more into pulling myself together. Up strolled FFPGINOANP and luckily we were only about 3 blocks from his place. So, we get there, I go vomit some more in the bathroom, and pass out. Lovely, eh?
The next day, I felt fine lying down, except for the sun feeling like it was melting my eyes. We worked to piece together the night before and he made the funny comment about me falling out of sight. I reminded him that yes, he made out with German, and I got the story of Bitchface trying not so subtly to edge him out and have her all to himself the whole night. Pricks deserve to get cockblocked. Lovely conversation and everything. Somehow internet dating came up and I was all, “shit…I used to be a Friendster ho! But the golden days are over.” (Second part’s true, the first not quite.) I can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing that he reminds me of what I liked about Farmer before he reemerged as Sniffer Beast Mach 5. We went for some yummy Spanish food and made plans to catch a show in a few weeks. Then I went back to NYC on the most hellish slow ass bus ride and I made that never going outside of Brooklyn/Queens/Manhattan without a payoff promise. We’ll see if I keep it. I’m quite prone to hyperbole. Because after all, wouldn’t I be mad if someone had that rule about me? Eh…no, not really. I’d probably thank them for being honest.
In conclusion, a jammed packed fucking weekend. I no longer feel ill and I’ll probably go another 6 months without vomiting (hopefully). I’ve also learned some lessons: Guys surprise you when you least expect it. If you’re going to overindulge on the sauce, it’d better be early. If you’ve got a would-be rival, you’ve got to be all Survivor in that piece — outwit, outfox, outlast. And try to keep it all down.