On the Saturday after Urban Sprawl's birthday, a friend we know was having a house party on the East Side (ugh!), so I finally had an occasion to wear the shirt SoHo Crush gave me for Valentine’s Day!
I had taken the shirt to the nearest tailor in the section of the Dominican Republic Washington Heights that I had just moved to. The tailor who didn’t speak English. Between my 5 years of being a Spanish wiz (and not practicing in 9 years) and hand motions, I was able to get him to pin it to my liking during a fitting the week before. On Saturday, I tried the shirt on, and I couldn’t button the bottom button.
What do we do in a fashion crisis like this? Do we panic and throw up til we fit? Do we wear a less cute shirt that everyone’s already seen? NO! We improvise. So I left the sleeves un-cuffed, and I left the bottom two (and top three) buttons open. Tada!
Flow-y, fabric-y sluttiness. This was the only picture I could find of my whole shirt. I guess people were that afraid to photograph my navel.
Unfortunately, I was about an hour and a half late to meet up with the boys at Pieces. No big deal, though, because 5-foot 8x6, the only our favorite Saturday-afternoon bartender at Pieces, was out of town (and didn’t have the decency to tell us!). I made do by playfully flirting with the stand-in bartender (who seemed to be suffering from a classic case of TSWB).
Bartender (talking to someone else): “I’m on my feet all day, my feet hurt…”
Me: “That’s real nice, hun! That’s. Real. Nice.”
Bartender (smirking): “Oh, really? You about ready for your next drink ‘cause I got something special for you.”
Me: “Well just remember: if you’re gonna roofie it, make it a double.”
Yeah, he wants me.
We carried on at Pieces until about 9 when we left for College Girl’s birthday party. It was karaoke.
And she had a whip.
There were about 6 of us there among her friends, and we stayed long enough for each of us to sing a song and for Med School Mess to finally get to be Beyoncé in Destiny’s Child as Bottomless Pitt and I danced to "Single Ladies".
SoHo Crush met us as we were migrating to the East-Side party. I complained about having to go East of 5th Avenue, but when I found out that the birthday boy actually lives in Jersey somewhere, I wasn’t too disgruntled about the location (especially since I didn’t have to train it to WaHi afterwards).
Bottomless Pitt was on a malt-liquor rampage, dragging us to every corner store on 3rd Avenue. Bitch, it’s 3rd Avenue. People don’t even drink malt liquor ironically here!
We finally got to the house party at a very impressive loft that featured make-shift walls out of plywood and Plexiglas with curtains. We jammed out to my NYE mix before leaving to check out The Hose (of course, Bottomless Pitt, Urban Sprawl and I left first because nobody else could get it together).
I’m not sure what was going on there (I'd lost count of my drinks... and I'd lost my date), but after 10 minutes, we looked at each other and said, "Phoenix" in unison, texting everyone to meet us and basically closing down the bar.
Did I mention that SoHo Crush had an open house at his place at noon on the day when I had the 2nd worst hangover I’ve ever had in New York?! Yeah.
Wondering what the hell my NYE mix is? Check it out here.
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2 comments:
well when you have a stomach like yours, shirts should always show it!
And hey-- I live on the East Side!
I told you not to mess with Legally Blonde, Miss Archer!
Haha, let me stop! My supposed hatred of the East Side is more about ability to get home at 3am (i.e., proximity to the A or 1 trains) than anything else.
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