sitting on his bed shirtless after an open bar (Hudson Terrace Sundays)

I arrived home on Sunday morning afternoon to find Straight Roommate and his Real Girl friend from salsa class packaging CDs for his new EP (check him out at www.AlexMontas.com). He'd really gone all out with the professional CD jackets and CDs with clear backs (not blue like the CD-Rs you burn on your computer). It was like Jive Records was in my living room! I helped them for a bit with the packing of the CDs and chatted with them until the Sexican called.

Yes, he called my phone.

He mentioned Ono, a party at a fancy straight rooftop in the Meat Packing District (i.e., expensive drinks and possibly snobby crowd). I kinda stopped listening after that.

"… Hudson Terrace… really cute party… 5 o'clock… friends… open bar.”

Me: “Wait, it’s open bar?! Why didn’t you say that in the first place! Where is it again?”

Him: “Hudson Terrace, 5-6 this afternoon.”

Me: “I’ll be there at 4:59!”

My voicemail was acting funny (#thanksAT&T), so I called The Sexican. “Hey, so it turns out the party doesn’t start til 6:30! I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.”

“So I’m just on my way down to Chelsea. Some of the boys are getting sangria at this place down there until it starts.”

. o O (That did’t exactly sound like an invitation.)

“Okay…” I paused. “Well, I’ll just find something to do in Hell’s Kitchen for a bit. I’m sure I can entertain myself for a bit.”

“God, I feel so bad!”

“Worse things have happened. Whatever. Holler at me later.”

“Okay.”

. o O (Did he really just leave me hanging? I mean, I don’t really know his people like that, but damn! Guess I’ll go play on Facebook at the office. Maybe work on the blog…)

My phone rang: “What’s up?”
“Hey, I can just tell them to meet us at Hudson Terrace. Do you wanna grab a drink at Barrage?”

It was all very weird timing because I thought had I at least 10 or 15 minutes. I was starving, so I grabbed a sandwich at a deli. As I was stuffing my face in front of Barrage, Loosefur walked by with his dog, Fluffy (the one who tried to bite my leg off last time I saw her). I gave her a cautious hug (the bitch, not the dog) and told him I was meeting The Sexican.

“I could join you guys… unless it’s… like that.””

“Yeah, you know, I really don’t know.”

“Oh… well, text me.”

Right as he was saying that, The Sexican turned the corner. Loosefur bolted right as I was going to introduce him (awkward). And I still had half my sandwich left, which I proceeded to eat in the most (unintentionally) anti-sexy fashion ever (fuck shredded lettuce!) while The Sexican and I talked outside.

A couple of The Sexican’s friends walked by and ended up going into the bar. The Sexican ordered his drink first and then went to the bathroom. I got my drink, and… . o O (crap, do I sit alone or do I sit with the friends?! Are they even really friends or just being nice because the met once?! What do I do??!!!)

The Sexican joined the three of us, but of course, we branched off into our own conversations.

Loosefur texted about 20 mintues later: Is it love?

I responded: Maybe.

At one point in our convo, I mentioned Columbia (the town, not the school).
The Sexican: “You’re from South Carolina?! I’m from North Carolina!”

Me: “Near Wilmington. I know.”

“Huh? How’d you know that?”

“Aside from the accent? Your blog.”

“Oh my god, you found my blog?!”

. o O (It’s linked from your Facebook profile, dude.)

“Yeah, I only got to a couple of entries, but it was interesting. I actually have one of my own…”

Around 6, The Sexican got a text that his friends were at the Hudson Terrace, so we ambled west while we talked some more. He was wearing a tshirt with the sides cut out (that looked really good on him) with the word HEALTHY written in baby blue print.

That's so healthy.

“Did you make that yourself?” Of course, I didn’t realize how that sounded until I’d said it.

“Yeah, I did.”

“God, the letters are perfectly aligned and spaced! My iron-on shirts never came out that professional-looking.”

“Yeah, I had [some major medical work done] a few years ago. It was pretty serious, and I couldn’t drink for months. So when everything was resolved, I made this shirt for my first night out.”

We met up with his friends and went inside to the spectacular penultimate level. I’m kicking myself now because I can’t remember the DJ’s name, but it was more of a real name than a stage name. Whatever her name was, she was working it out (the music and the dancing!).

Occasionally Denzelle sends what I like to call Brooklyn pop songs song via Facebook email. I had to send him a text when a club mix of “Bulletproof” came on. I felt all alterna-cool because I already knew the hook… sort of.

The Sexican's friends actually turned out to be a lot of fun. I started out slow with the drinks because I wasn’t sure what their pace was, but much like the Ivy League Crew, they were all about securing a table and lining up the free drinks. Loosefur eventually joined us, waiting until the open bar was over because she couldn’t deal with the barbarians (read: us) clamoring for free alcohol.

After the open bar was over, they opened up the roofdeck. Unfortunately, it was a Splash type of division: the Scene was upstairs with the Junior Vasquez music (no, really, Junior was the DJ), and the pop music was downstairs. I almost suggested we ignore the Scene and go for the music, but I wasn’t sure if that’d get me sentenced to 60 days of shunning or not. We kept towards the stairs, which was extra fun because we were right next to the high-powered air conditioner (yes, we were outside), which I used as a diva fan.

About 10 mintues after we got upstairs, we heard this really loud hissing sound, almost like static. I was thinking the DJ needed to get it together, but all of a sudden, everything turned cold and white. I literally had no visibility! Once everything cleared, I realized that there was a sort of hyper-powered smoke machine that blew out high-velocity cryogenic mist. It was cool until I realized that I was breathing that shit in.

Around 8:30, everyone was over it, so we headed out.

The Sexican: “I think I’m gonna just grab some Chinese food and go home.”

Me: “Cool. I’ll walk with you. I’m going uptown anyway.”

We ended up getting Chinese food and going back to his place. And since there wasn’t much social space in the apartment, we sat on his bed and watched VH-1. Did I mention we were shirtless because it was hot as hell and the A/C took a while to kick in. Plus I was wearing a white button-down (don’t wanna sweat that out!).

Can we have a short conversation about how much of a mess Megan Wants a Millionaire is (that's the show we watched)? I swear there are like 2 straight guys on that show. And that’s being generous. I’d do a whole recap of this hilarious episode, but a) you can look that up yourself (especially the awful kiss… but good luck finding it now that one of the contestants is wanted for murder) and b) you’re probably wondering what happened as we were sitting on his bed shirtless after an open bar.

Did I mention I'm gonna have to finish this in the next post? Yeah.

While you're waiting, click here to check out this wild Sunday Night when Bottomless Pitt won a bottle at Hot Mess.

Update: click here to read the conclusion of this night.

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