TTT convinced a few of the boys to meet for brunch in his neighborhood the next morning. I heard the texts coming to my phone… but I really didn’t get out of bed until 3.
When I found them at Pieces about 2 hours later, Med School Mess couldn’t wait to tell me the story from earlier in the day. Apparently, she had told TTT’s friend (whom I’d met quite a few times) about the blog, explaining that everyone involved had a pseudonym. So TTT’s friend’s wheels got to turning in his head.
TTT’s Friend: “I wonder what my name would be on the blog… My goal tonight is to do something so outrageous so that I’ll make the blog!”
Med School Mess: “Your name would probably be something like WOOF.”
TTT’s friend (I’m imagining she was glaring): “What do you mean, WOOF?”
Med School Mess: “Well, because you’re kind of like a bear.” At this point I almost spit out my screwdriver with a splash of pineapple (finally, 5-foot 8x6 remembered my drink!!)
TTT’s friend: “I’m SO not a bear!”
I had to interrupt the story: “Mess, honey, you can’t call a guy a bear unless he identifies himself as one first… because they think all bears are fat, old, and scary.”
Med School Mess: “Well, I didn’t know! I mean, she is hairy!”
Well, TTT’s friend didn’t do anything outrageous, but for being the subject of a fabulous story, I’m happy to dub her Ursa Menorah. Ursa, your best bet for a recurring role is to a) show up, b) take off clothes, c) engage in whorish behaviour, d) pay me (PayPal accepted here).
I had convinced most of the Ivy League Crew et al to do the F Word at Santos Party House that night and to email Joey Israel get on the comp list. Everyone was down, but Bottomless Pitt insisted that I keep her entertained on the West Side until the party started because she wouldn’t come back if she went back home to the east side.
Eventually, our group split up, and Med School Mess, Bottomless Pitt, and I ended up grabbing sushi. And whom did I see walking down Greenwich Ave besides Blink. Blink recently graduated from [Ivy League school] and moved to the city with a long distance relationship in tow. Did I mention she’s really not the long-distance-relationship type? We’ll call her Blink because she is everything that a twink should be… except she’s black.
I banged on the window and motioned Blink in. She spoke briefly, ordered food, and ran to Pieces to use the bathroom (um, Go Sushi has a bathroom, dude… well, they had a bathroom, but they’re closed now). It just so happened that the main bathroom at Pieces was closed down, so everyone had to use the one-man-party toilet.
Blink came back with a story!
“I went back to go pee, and just as I was closing the door, this older guy slipped in and was like, ‘I want you to piss on me.’"
Blink: "I was like, ‘What?!’ So he gets down on his knees, and I’m pissing into his mouth—“
Me: “Hol’ up, what?!"
Blink: “Oh, whatever! It’s not like he was pissing on me. I was gonna pee anyway, so if a guy gets off on it, whatever.”
Me with a nod: “Point taken. But who was it?! We probably saw him earlier.” Blink described what the piss queen was wearing. “Oh my god! That was the older guy that was talking to us before we left! He was really into that Elephant video I showed him! You pissed on him?!”
Blink: “YES! So as I’m pissing, he’s like swallowing it. And of course, I’ve been drinking, so it was like a lot of piss. So at one point, he kind of started gurgling, so I took that as my cue to stop.”
Me: “How do you stop peeing once you start?”
Blink: “I managed. So he swallows the rest, and then he was trying to kiss me. I was like, uh, I gotta go. Rushed right out the front door.”
Me: “You should have ‘accidentally’ missed and gotten a little bit on his shirt.”
We went back to Pieces and hung out with the piss queen until a bit after 10. At one point, we saw him and a Latin guy in a do-rag scurry off to the bathroom together (talk about insatiable). When the Latin guy started bawling while talking to Bottomless Pitt soon thereafter, we decided it was a good time top hop on the train to TriBeCa for the F Word.
It was another night of spending like 20 minutes in line (20 minutes of open bar time, mind you… because I wasn’t drunk from the last 6 hours)! But when they finally let us in, the party turned out to be awesome! Cazwell has officially earned look-for-him-on-invites status as a DJ. Did I mention he played “He Ain’t With Me Now (Tho)” by RichGirl?!
I went fucking nuts. It’s my favorite new song.
So we may or may not have picked up a random cutie who was new to the city and brought him back to Pieces.
Everyone in our clique may or may not have actively tried to hook up with him.
Of course, everyone was headed to Hudson Terrace for the open bar on Sunday. I skipped up to my favorite bartender (at that party, anyway), and ordered 2 screwdrivers.
“That’ll be $11?”
“I’m sorry?” I asked, almost laughing.
“Yeah, it’s 2-4-1 this week, not open bar. Sorry.”
Well, it was fun while it lasted. Now, I’ll be the first one to say that Hudson Hotel on Sundays is probably the cutest gay party in NYC, but I can do 2-4-1 on 9th ave!
Nothing particularly interesting was happening there (especially after the 2-4-1 drink special ended… on the $11 drinks!), so we went to Posh instead. While it wasn’t particularly crowded, we managed to have a sinful amount of fun there.
Did I mention that I actually got home before midnight?! Yeah!
Did you catch my post from Friday? Click here to see video of Med School Mess 'voguing'.
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