Pitt doing what she does best

After the open bar at Chelsea Hotel, we decided to check out Joey Isreal’s new Friday-night party, Eat Me at Ate Ave (on 8th ave!).  It seems like he had all the Gay-lebrities in the house: Formika (it was his birthday), that short guy we always see at Pieces (and View), every drag queen you could name, etc.  Joey came and posed with us for a few flicks before strutting off to run some kind of show or competition.  It was quite a turnout and a fabulous crowd to look at, but they were asking people in the elevated back area to sit down for the show.  On. The. Floor.  I went home instead.  Maybe next time when I don't have an early curfew, I'll pop in after 1 and stay for the show. 

Saturday, I had been invited to 3 parties (all of which I wanted to go to), but SoHo Crush was hosting a party at his faaaaabulous loft for one of his best friends, a lesbian he plays softball with.  How could I say no?  

I showed up with Morehead who had come directly to the party from a café where she was reading admissions applications all day.  As in, she was lugging a huge bag with all of the applications when she walked in.  Morehead and I tossed our coats on the bed and skipped over to the bar where SoHo Crash (who is no longer crashing with Crush) mixed us up a couple of cocktails. 

The theme of the party was Empty Trash (like a mac).  The trashy theme included mounted trash bins, Christmas lights, plastic-bottle vodka, Bazooka bubble gum.  And there was even a piñata (which isn't trashy in and of itself, but after SoHo Crash attacked it with the bat...)!

People brought all kinds of presents.  And the birthday girl was very appreciative,

feeding her lesbian guests beer and her gay guests vodka.  Apparently Morehead shared her appreciation for the gift... and was fed vodka.  This was about 30 minutes in (on Morehead's 4th drink).

I should explain that I’ve made a habit of layering 2 button-down shirts.  Usually these are brightly-colored shirts of contrasting color that I’ve gotten taken in at the tailor.  So to go along with the trashy theme, I took it up a notch to 3 layers of shirts. 

The shirts actually had the opposite effect, getting a plethora of compliments, even with the popped collars (which SoHo Crash made me put down later in the party).  A bunch of people asked where I got them.  I told them the generic store they came from, and they were amazed (mostly because they didn’t know I had had them taken in).

And I don’t like sharing fashion secrets, so y’all had better cherish this tid bit.

The big topic of conversation (besides my fashion *hair toss*) was that there was a celebrity in the house.  It turns out that SoHo Crash was dating an actor on Ugly Betty, so of course he came to the party.  Why not call him Pretty Betty.

Med School Mess: “Should we ask him for a picture?  Would that be tacky?”

Me: “Yes!  But what’s even more tacky is us standing over here whispering and trying to sneak glances at him.”  Just to be an ass, I have to mention that I was standing across from everyone else in the convo.

It was a very different crowd than the Obama party SoHo Crush had hosted.  Only about 2/3rds to half as many people attended, which was nice for breathing room.  It definitely gave us room to do “Single Ladies”.  Twice. 

Well, as the night went on, the girls started to get more and more drunk (because open bar and drink til you break something are synonymous).  I did my best to usher them to DTox since a) we were in the vicinity and b) it can be fun to do something different.  As I herded the alcoholics to the elevator, I said goodbye to the host and birthday girl, both of whom protested until I explained that I didn’t want any of my friends to do damage anything (at which point they helped me stuff all 15 of the boys into the elevator).

I made one final sweep of the loft to make sure we hadn’t left anyone behind.  In the 90 seconds it took me to catch up with everyone, they informed me that everyone (but Loosefur) wanted to go to Pieces.  At that point, I couldn’t care less about trying something new as long as I didn’t have to deal with tragedy in my boy situation’s home. 

Pieces was a general, uneventful mess... outside of MicHELLe's being violated on the pool table.

And Bottomless Pitt doing what she does best.

No, I didn't mean bottoming, but your have a point.  Okay, what she does second best: finding a white guy to flirt with.  And to quote the Sugar Hill Gang , "if your girl starts actin' up, then you take her friend!"

Different outfit, different height, wearing glasses.  Noted.

The owner of this camera has obviously not heard about Urban Sprawls history with electronics (four[teen] cameras and at least 2 phones over the past 2 years).

I left early, expecting to brush my teeth and hop into bed with SoHo Crush.  Wrong.  People were still partying.  Like 20 or 30 people.  And what’s worse is when I heard, “Oh, just crash here with us!”  Huh?!  And why was someone passed out on SoHo Crush’s bed?!  And why did he get moved to the couch in SoHo Crush’s bedroom?!  I was too through.

And to top it off, in the middle of making out:

Me, noticing it's a little off: “Did you take an Ambien already?!”

SoHo: “Yeah.”

He passes out right then.  Perfect.

Much of the next morning was spent cleaning up.  And there was quite a mess.  I really can't remember any of our random overnight guests helping.  

SoHo Crash was supposed to make us breakfast.  He was way too hung over, so Pretty Betty stepped in.  After everyone had had their fill, SoHo Crush announced that it was a beautiful day and that we should all go out for a walk.  We meandered around SoHo (the neighborhood) and the Village, stopping at the Washington Square Park dog run.  It was wet from all the melted snow, so we were laughing at dogs with stubby legs running through the water after tennis balls.  One golden retriever seemed particularly friendly, especially with Pretty Betty.

“Pretty?  Hey, how are you?”

We look up, and this short, slightly chubby, granola-ish chick comes over and cheek kisses Pretty Betty.  Everyone smiles and greets her.  “Hi, I’m America.”  Excuse me?

So we’re sitting there, talking to the star of Ugly Betty in the park with her two dogs for like 20 minutes.  

Eventually, SoHo Crush talked us into going into the Monster (I haven’t been there in over 2 years… for good reason), but SoHo Crash didn’t have ID, which was no surprise for him.  No ID, no entry.  So they left us to drink by ourselves.  After his 3rd cosmo, convincing SoHo Crush to come to the Almost East Side for MicHELLe’s Super Bowl party was a breeze.

We missed J-Hud’s National Anthem, but I wasn’t worried (ever heard of Youtube?).  I lost interest in the game after about 20 minutes and spent most of the time talking to people and watching a disturbingly recent former hook-up of MicHELLe’s flirt flagrantly with a friend of ours.  In. MicHELLe’s. Apartment. 

But I also managed to take Double Stuffed pictures of all the bottoms at the party (okay, not all the bottoms, but I got a good number of them)!

Notice the disapproving boyfriend in the background.

Did I mention that Bottomless Pitt showed up in a white T with a 40?  Yeah.

My birthday was on a Friday the 13th.  Check out the horror that happened here.


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