still dating the drug dealer (MicHELLe's 24th birthday)

Friday night, I hit the ground running. I ran home to shower and change and got back to Hell's Kitchen just in time to be 40 minutes late for dinner plans. 

After spending more on dinner than I do on a typical whole night out with no pre-gaming (for future reference, turkey sandwich = perfect dinner), I was ready to meet up at Posh for MicHELLe's birthday bar crawl.

It was mostly MicHELLe's friends from undergrad, but a few familiar faces were present, including Gene-Erik, an uptown friend in Grad school for (wait for it...) genetics (non-Ivy [thank god] for undergrad, class of '05). I conversed briefly with Gene-Erik before a guy that stood about 6’7” walked into the bar.

Me: "Guys that tall make you wonder... if you know what I mean. I hear Shaq isn't what you'd expect."

Him: "You know, dogs sizes are mainly determined [genetics jargon... I'm nodding my head as if I'm the least bit familiar], which causes them to have far more variations in size as compared to humans. In fact, [species] is 100 times the size of [other species]!"

Me: "Oh wow! Really... Wait, are you talking about penis size?"

Him: "No, I meant total mass."

Me: "Oh. Right."

. o O (Thank god I go to the gym so I don’t have to be smart... Fuck, he’s a gym rat, too!)

Sidenote: an RG friend of MicHELLe's from undergrad had a boyfriend who took her and MicHELLe to the Britney concert in Jersey a few months back in a limo. Bought them all kinds of souvenirs and gear. Turns out the boyfriend was a drug dealer (rumor has it Mary Jane, MicHELLe's RG friend, has her own private roof on the Upper East Side and hasn't worked in a year). At one point while they were partying during or after the concert (they had a skybox), drugs were brought out. MicHELLe freaked out and ran back to NYC and hasn't seen Mary Jane since.

 

Mary Jane was attending the bar crawl that night, and MicHELLe pondered aloud if she should text her to see if she were still dating the drug dealer. Many friends thought she should, but I asked her, "What is your knowlege of that information going to change? Besides your anxiety level?" She acknowlegded by good point, but I think she sent a probing text anyway.

Around 11:45, MicHELLe rounded everyone up to cross 9th Ave and head to Vlada, where she had space reserved upstairs. Finally, the rest of The Ivy League Crew et al. and Grrber joined us.

Grrber and I went to go talk to MicHELLe, who was just finishing giving directions over the phone.

"So for the last 10 minutes, I've been on the phone with Maty Jane, and she was like, 'Where are you?' and I was like, 'Upstairs! Look for the staircase in the bak of the bar.' We finally realized that she couldn't find it because she was at Posh. Oops, my bad. She said she can't wait for me to open the gift she got me..."

Me: "Yeah, she's still with the drug dealer."

When Mary Jane found us, she was a sight to see. Picture a model-esque blond standing at about 6'3" (in 4" heels) wearing a the tiger-print jacket. As soon as she did the straight-girl oh-my-god-i-haven't-seen-you-in-20-minutes scream greeting, Grrber said, "I can't deal with that voice," an made his way to the other side of the crowded bar.

And what was the present that she couldn't wait to give him?

That's right. The I-paid-$300-for-a-wallet (slash I-bought-it-on-Canal-Street-for-$15) LV print.

After an hour or so, we all migrated to The Ritz. While we waited for people outside, I made the mistake randomly of quoting that Shoes song by Kelly.

Mary Jane: "Oh my god, you know that song? Sing more." I sang another random line. "Oh my god, sing more!"

Me: "I'm not sure I remember much more."

MJ: "Yes you do! You're totally making my night! Pleeeeease sing more!!" I sang some of the guitar riff. "Oh my god! You're so great! Tell me a random fact about your life!"

Me: "A random fact? Well, I'm lactose intolerant."

MJ: "Oh my god, how sad! How do you eat ice cream."

Me: "Um, I don't. I can't digest it."

MJ: "God, I survive on ice cream and air!"

Me: "That's not too hard to believe..."

MJ: "Tell me another random fact about you!"

That's not where the conversation ended; I just can't bare to re-create any more of it. Did I mention Grrber made sure to walk a good 50 feet ahead of us?

When we got to The Ritz, Grrber got us all kamikaze shots, and MicHELLe made her intentions known: "I need dick in my hoooooole!"

A cute, shirtless, older guy was standing by me and in front of MicHELLe at the bar, so being the good friend that I am, I dipped a few fingertips into my glass and flicked some moisture onto the guy's back. He turned around, and MicHELLe took full advantage of my passive introduction.

Feeling smug about the good I had done in the world, I made my exit with Grrber for a Brooklyn -bound train. Did I mention I’d been lugging around a bag with a change of clothes the whole night? Yeah.

My album review on Lady Gaga's Fame is this month's reader favorite. Click here to check it out.

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