obvious ploys to show off the overtime in the gym

 Halloween?  Oh, you know we did it messy.  The set-up: an ex of mine (let’s call him Duplex) has a huge party on Halloween in his sick pad.  I invited about 40 people thinking that half would respond.  About 50 people ended up confirming on facebook.  Shit.

 

I met up with PBK at her friend’s place on Riverside (with such an enviable view) to pregame.  PBK is my former roommate (we met when we moved into the same sublet about 2 years ago… luckily, we were a perfect match) and a real girl.  We call her PBK because she was a Phi Beta Kappa.  She didn't talk about it much, but I guess it's not that big a frat.  Their step team doesn't even have anything on Youtube.

 

Anyway, PBK answers the door, and all I see are boobs and cheetah/zebra print (much like I imagine El Morocco to be on a straight night).  She had made a Jane costume out of this wild  elastic banding, and there really wasn’t much of it.  Then she bought a bag of hair, clipped it in, and teased the fuck out of it.  Her friend, Project Runway (an aspiring designer who works in production) had a similarly home-made scandalous costume. 

 

Project Runway’s boy situation was there, and he fixed me a very strong drink.  I told him he made drinks like a gay bartender.  “Not that that’s a bad thing, but just letting you know you’re putting that out there.”  He said something about not believing it was weak.  “Honey, have you had a drink at a gay bar?  They make y’all’s drinks taste like Kool-Aid.”  Then again, he’s richer than God, so he probably gets bottle service anyway.

 

We hopped in dude’s car to stop by a rooftop party in the Village hosted by a friend of BRITney’s on the way to Duplex's.  Shit, the parade is in the Village.  “We just need to find parking,” said PBK.  “Hopefully not too far from the party.”  You might be SOL, girl.  After being in the car for an close to an hour between traffic and parking not existing (c’mon, it’s the Village on a Friday, and you drive an X5), I suggested that we just hit up Duplex’s party. 

 

“NO!  We have to find parking!  There has to be somewhere. And I really have to pee.”  I forgot there was a straight man behind the wheel.  Great.  Is there a subway stop nearby?  Finally, he pulls into a parking lot on 20^th and 10^th  Ave (not exactly near anything useful).

 

Then PBK and Project Runway have to pee, so we stop in a diner.  They order fries.  Thank god I wasn’t in a rush to be anywhere. 

 

Straight guy: “Hey, the club’s this way…”

D. Kareem: “I’m not going to any club.”

Project Runway: “Oh my god, I love this pub!  We should stop in and do a shot.”

D. Kareem: “Um, there’s free liquor at the party.  I got a 1.75L right here!”

PBK was the only one making any sense: “Let’s stop in for a drink and then we can hit it up after.”

 
We finally make it to the party, and it’s a madhouse.  We make our way to the back yard/garden to get drinks, checking out the crowd as we go.  The boys were waiting for me to get there, so I sent out a few texts for them to be on their way. 

 
“Okay, guess who I’m supposed to be!”

 
I played this game the whole night, thinking my costume was pretty obvious from the sweater.  I'll give you a hint:  

If you guessed Bottomless Pitt, you're exactly right.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t find my grey colored contacts (that I haven’t worn in 3 years), so I had to settle for purple.  The bits of paper are “quotations” (which is in quotations because Bottomless Pitt may or may not have said them) such as; “I’ve only bottomed once  twice  three– Oh, who am I kidding” and a list of eastern European countries with check marks next to them (his "conquests").

 
I also stuffed the ass of my jeans with a tshirt, which might have worked a little too well.  This guy dressed as the Native American from the Village People (who, by the way, was super hot… stupid former relationship with the host!) thought it was real and was very blatantly admiring it.  “Are you going up the stairs?  Oh, good.  You can go ahead of me.”  God, his evil smile was hot!  He even gave the fake butt a pat and didn’t believe it was fake until much later in the night.  And he wasn’t the only one. 

You don't have to have "good hair" to have Cherokee in you.

 

“Who invited her!”  Bottomless Pitt finally walks in.  He had told me about the ‘tube top’, but it was more like a rubber band around his chest (with matching hot pants).  A hat with fur ears.  A fur tail.  And white sneakers.  She was Foxy Love.

The ‘tube top’ came off in about 5 minutes.

 
Finally, all the girls were here, and I was ready to party for real.  The unfortunate thing about most guys with the means to throw a bash like this is that they’re either too boring to actually tolerate or old to be into pop music (read: House Music All Night Long).  Duplex is the latter. 

 
But the view was entertainment enough.  There was an array of creative costumes…

 

And obvious ploys to show off the overtime in the gym.

 
Wait, what's going on here?!  Hands off her panties!  Did 24YOMB and PhD not get enough 3-some last night? 

Fuck!  Who invited her?  No, for real, why is The Count here?  The Count is an accountant I dated for a few weeks earlier this year.  He took me to the Black Party (I'll have to post about that sometime) and stopped calling me about 2 weeks later.  Not that it was that big a deal because he definitely didn’t have the body that was in his profile picture, but that’s not what this post is about.  Luckily, we’re on friendly enough terms when we do run into each other (every couple of months).  Guess he’s got a thing for black guys b/c someone snapped a picture with him going in for the kill in the background.

 

Can we have a short conversation about the lines at this party?  No, Bottomless Pitt, not those lines.  People were texting me that there was a line to get into the party or that they weren’t letting people in (they had security… that’s how huge this party is).  The line for the bathroom was at least 20 mintues.  And when I went out on the street to pee between cars, I had to call Duplex to get security to let me back in.  Twice. 

Around 4:30, Duplex was over it, so he shut down the party a bit earlier than usual.  I stuck around, planning to help Duplex blow off some steam after the party and missing quite a hilarious time at the diner with the boys.

“Oops, I didn’t tell you my friend from Cali is staying with me this weekend?  Sorry, baby.  I didn’t know you were gonna still be here.  Here, take a cab home.”  He hands me a 20.

“Yeah, you definitely didn’t mention that.  It’ll be $30 for me to get home.”

 

Did I mention getting home in 20 minutes made my night a bit better?  Yeah.

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