I said fuck it and stripped down (a housewarming party and a spandex soiree)

Another Saturday night in NYC, and this week, it was all about the house parties. First on the list was ‘Trish’s house warming for her new apartment, and after that was Rosebud’s Olympic-themed party (the Facebook invite was entitled “Spandex Encouraged”). But first, I had planned a brunch with Euro blogger buddy Planet Franck.

Planet Franck and I had been reading each other’s blogs for quite some time (I think late '08) and had always appreciated (read: been jealous of) each other’s disparate experiences. He was actually exactly how I imagined him, but much taller and with less accent. I took him to Maracas for their unlimited drink special, of which we both eagerly took advantage. I tried to coax him to a bar afterwards, but he declined, claiming he needed a nap before meeting up with friends. I’m always wary that bloggers will be awkward as hell or grossly less interesting in person (a general rule for anyone I meet online), so I was glad we had such an enjoyable meeting.

After going home and taking care of laundry (in the basement of our new building!! No more dealing with the drop-off place being closed after I get out of the gym!) and a short disco nap, I hung out with the Straight Roommate and a couple of his friends. They got me some Chinese, so even though I wasn’t planning to pre-game, I offered them some vodka, which they gladly accepted. Meanwhile, most of the Straight Roommates regular glasses have broken, so I’ve been collecting mason jars. And no one had turned on the ice maker yet. All of these factors led to my making drinks that were much bigger and much stronger than I expected. I changed into more party-appropriate attire and giggled my way downtown to meet TTT and a couple of his friends.

‘Trish lives super far west in Hell's Kitchen, so we split a cab over. Instead of looking up the apartment number on Facebook while we rode, I yakked with the others in the cab. We pulled up to what looked like a modern hotel where a very handsome and young door man asked us which unit we were headed to. Finally, my iPhone cooperated, and he informed us that we were in the wrong tower. We ran across the driveway (through piercing wind) to the other tower’s entrance and took the elevator up to the 50-something-th floor.

‘Trish: “D. Kareeeeeeeeeem! I’ve been waiting for my wo-man! Come this way. There are way too fucking many people in there, so we’re putting coats next door. My key opens the whole floor. Nobody’s moved in yet!”

We dropped our coats off in the empty unit and headed over to the party. He wasn’t lying when he said it was crowded. The unit was a large studio, and there were at least 50 people there. The view, which wrapped around so that one could see Jersey, the Hudson, and downtown to most of the signature high-rises of TAPS (the Trash Around Penn Station), was rather breathtaking. If only my parents loved me that much…

“Oo, black people! What’s your name!”

I quickly got acquainted with the pretty, performer-looking black guys that walked in, and it wasn’t long before two black women from NJ (where ‘Trish works) joined us and started taking a multitude of pictures (including the one to the right). And we may or may not have sang the song from that campfire scene in Glory.

Things got very blurry after that second vodka and orange soda (it was either that or cranberry “juice”… did I mention this was a doctor serving all this HFCS?), but I remember setting my alarm to go Rosebud’s party around 11:30.

So remember how spandex was in the title of Rosebud's party?

Dear Preppy: the 5% spandex in your collared shirt from Club Monaco is not theme-appropriate.

I guess Banker Gays don’t go to the gym until their Fire-Island shares are imminent are more modest in the winter. Not a single other person was wearing spandex gear, but I said fuck it and stripped down to mine. Urban Sprawl took off his pants in solidarity, but that was about all the moral support I got. I really don’t remember talking to anyone, but it’s possible that someone caught held my attention past, "Can you pass the [mixer]?" What I do remember is putting on music from my iPhone before we hauled out for Posh.

And I remember seeing a red-headed guy.

And I remember stumbling into a hotel down the street.

Did I mention we were both intending to top?

Yeah.

Click here to check out Rosebud's holiday party, complete with a surprise coming-out!

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Photos borrowed from funny-pic-world.blogspot.com, explorerpass.com and stuff.pyzam.com