You guys can have the rest of this if you want

Anybody wanna go to this $25 open bar fund raiser on Tuesday?

Number of friends on the email thread who said yes: 5

Number of friends on the email thread who showed up: 1

As soon as I walked into the door, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  Turns out it was Hillary Ho.  Hillary Ho and I had actually met at this same bar, Aspen, around a year ago when Hillary Clinton was running in the Primary.  Which may reveal how politically aware I was/am because I don’t know or care know if the Primaries were even going on a year ago.  Anyway, we originally met at an open bar party for gay boys sponsored by Hillary’s campaign.  We had met a few times sporadically (and even randomly) after that.  Well, since Morehead didn’t show up until about an hour after I did, Hillary Ho was the only person I knew at the party (outside the DJ and the host… but I have a rule about that). 

I chatted with her and her friend with TSWB syndrome for a while.  We were in the back area until Hillary Ho said she wanted to “move through the crowd so I can rub people inappropriately.”  Oh my.  As we headed to the front, I almost tripped over Morehead (I didn’t see her down there!).  I tried to engage her in our convo, but she was too busy getting phone numbers (including one from a guy who admitted to having a boyfriend with no ‘arrangement’).  

When I finally caught up with her, she told me about her recent trip back to New England.  Apparently all the boys she went to college with (who, no doubt, are stuck still in the Boston area), who didn’t give her a second glance back then, wanted to jump her bones now.  And she seemed surprised.

“At least you had gay boys to reject/ignore you at your college!  I’m guessing you hit the books pretty hard in college, right?  And didn’t really work out much?  And now you have a six pack, and they’ve fallen apart since y’all graduated.  It happens every time! But I bet you fucked them anyway.”

Okay, maybe I didn’t say that last sentence.  Anyway, that convo evolved into our discussing the guy(s) that I know that she’s hooked up with, including a certain boy who really shouldn’t be available for such encounters.  Not that I hadn't heard about this boy going astray before, but I didn’t know this unavailable boy shat where he ate.  Sloppy, sloppy.

The fundraiser had a raffle, but I decided that between the “donation”, the tips for the (god knows how many) drinks I had had and the amount I had spent going out 5 nights in a row the previous week that I should be a bit more cash conservative.  Then Morehead wins 2 tix from Jet Blue.  Bitch.

Then I went to Karaoke at Pieces.  I don’t remember much, but I woke up next to some Russian that knows Bottomless Pitt. 

Thursday was an open bar party at Marc Ecko.  Because I definitely needed another one of those.  They had a list at the door, so I walked over to get checked off (I doubt they were turning people away).  On the top of the list, I see one my fav bloggers: Jesse Archer!  Is this the month of meeting bloggers in person or what?!  I knew it would be a superb night out.

Right off the bat, I run into Random Oracle.  We procure our first drinks, and Bottomless Pitt shows up just in time for our refill.  Did I mention she’s recently made a habit of vokda on the rocks?  Yeah.

Random Oracle and his friend hang with Bottomless Pitt and I through quite a few more vodka drinks.  Apparently Undergear was sponsoring this party as well because out of nowhere, 2 models come out in their underwear.  A random white twink (redundant, I know) and a hugely built Latin guy.

I didn’t want to be rude, so I took a picture with both.  I guess I wouldn’t push the twink out of bed.  And the guy on the left may look white here,

but he definitely looks Latin here.

Urban Sprawl shows up but prefers to abstain from the free name-brand liquor and save himself for the $2 frozen (well) margaritas at View Bar.  HUH?!  But it may have to do with the fact that he had just come from the MTA holiday party which featured open top shelf bar and tons of food.  And strippers.  PS, they’re raising our fairs.

(Note: because I know Urban Sprawl cannot let any statement be declared without exact precision and accuracy, even for the sake of plot or humor, I will state that he claims to have paid for their holiday party.)

At one point, a random guy starts talking to us, telling us that people working the door beckoned him off the street as he walked by.  He mentioned a gift bag, which I had totally forgotten in the invite.  The 4 of us rushed to the front of the store where we saw an official-looking guy holding one. 

“Excuse me, are you the keeper of the gift bags?”

“Oh, are you gonna butter me up if I am?”

“Oh, no!  If I were going to butter you up [arm around the shoulder, sexy stare] you’d know.”

Talk bad about me if you want, but I got the last gift bag.  Free drink tickets to HK bars, check.  Week pass to David Barton gym, check.  Delta Goodrem CD (love her from my time in Australia!), check.  FREE MEDIUM-SIZED UNDERGEAR UNDERWEAR, CHECK!

“Sprawl and Pitt, you guys can have the rest of this if you want.”  Aren’t I a good friend?

Sadly, the boys were starting to get bored with the venue around the time they started the underwear auction, and I still hadn’t seen the esteemed author, Jesse Archer.

Well, View Bar seemed rather sparse, but that might be because we got there at 9:00 rather than the usual 10:30.  We ended up at Splash pretty close to 11, so nobody was downstairs.  I took advantage of the extra space and flirted with the DJ to get him to play “Like Me” (because I haven’t gotten to ‘perform’ that dance in months!).  I have to remember what lucky underwear I was wearing that night because I was getting everything I wanted: Girlicious only had to wait 2 songs.

And look who comes prancing through the dancefloor: Hottie Jailbait from Bronx Newbie’s party!  Shirtless.  Hott.  Now I wasn’t doing anything to provoke: I still had a tanktop on, and I barely said hi.  Out of nowhere, ass on my crotch.  Very nice ass on my crotch.  Hand on his six pack.  Smooth skin, slightly sweaty.  It was pretty intense grinding, and I was beginning to think that he was wanting to take it further.  Really, D. Kareem?  He’s not even old enough to drink.

  

It was so surprise when he said he was “going to get a drink” and that he’d “be right back.”  I didn’t even set the timer on my phone for that one. 

Did I mention my new underwear fit great?  Yeah!

To find out why I hated Hiro, click here.


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