Just like last year, Med School Mess and her roommates hosted a NYE party on the Almost East Side (because the Upper East Side ends at 96th St). To celebrate the end of the decade (yes, we know that the decade actually includes 2010, but just go with it), the theme was "iLove the Aughties!" Guests were encouraged to dress in trends from 2000-2009.
Since the invite went out so early, I had a good month and a half to figure out what the fuck I was gonna wear, but for whatever reason, I couldn't come up with anything good, especially after the inclimate weather ruled out my knock-off Uggs. And then it hit me like an 8:30am alarm after going to bed at 5 (a situation with which I was intimately familiar that day). My idea was SO aughties, and chances were slim-to-none that someone else would try to pull it off.
I ran to Duane Reade for wrapping and tissue paper and to a local sex shop for a dildo. I spent the last hour of my morbidly slow half work day wrapping a box I'd snatched from our office's box graveyard. When the wrapping was complete, I filled the box with the tissue paper and inserted the dildo.
After a strategically long disco nap, I cut two holes in the box and looped my studded belt into them (so aughties!), attaching the box to my hips. I finished off my look with a tshirt on which I wrote “Step 1” and “Step 2” with checked boxes and “Step 3” with an unchecked box.
Still don’t get it?
On the way to MSM's, I stopped at a liquor store. You know, the kind with the bullet-proof glass where the attendant has to slide your bottle through a maze while you pay through a hole under the glass just big enough to fit 3 fingers (god help if you have change). I was going to get my trusty Sobieski vodka, but just as I was about to order, I saw a label that said double-proof vodka.
I decided I’d to commute with my outfit, which was uneventful. But I couldn’t sit down, and I’m sure that poor woman sitting on the M96 bus didn’t appreciate my dick-box next to her face.
When I arrived at Med School Mess’s, I couldn’t get over the awesome aughties decorations!
Stuff I hadn’t thought about since it actually happened!
Med School Mess: “I have to get a mug shot of you.”
MSM: “First room on the left.”
They had converted a bedroom into a mug-shot studio!
I felt so famous!
Once again, we had to put “Single Ladies” to rest (but you and I both know they’ll be doing it at Pieces next week), and we gave new life to the “Bad Romance” choreography. Because when 5 drunk gays do any dance, it takes on a life of its own.
(PS those two songs came out a year apart [within a couple of weeks]... is October the official month to make a big gay splash in music?!)
Midnight came, and I felt significantly more sober than I was the year before (since that wasn’t at all disastrous or messy), so I figured that would be a good time to break out the double-proof vodka. I remember making 2 drinks before we left for Vig 27.
You may ask, “Why Vig 27?” Or even “Where the hell is Vig 27?” And that’s exactly why I suggested it as our after-party. It was convenient to the party (Gramercy, so we didn’t need to transfer on the train) but not to hoards of gays. They weren’t charging a cover, and they had $5 drink specials (rather than their usual $9 drinks). My logic: it’s relatively unknown, so it was less likely to be ridiculously crowded.
I wish I could tell you whether or not it was a good choice, but the only thing I remember from Vig 27 is Bottomless Pitt getting the rest of her stamps on her buy-10-drinks-get-5-free. She gave me a mojito.
I remember walking out of VIG 27 with Bottomless Pitt after they closed (or when we got bored?) to go to Posh for their 24-hour party. Out of nowhere, Med School Mess was bawling. Something about losing her brand new glasses and not being able to keep it together. This year, Bottomless Pitt was the one standing aside, and I was the one doing the comforting. We must have been on that street corner for 20 minutes or before we finally sent her uptown.
As we crossed 5th Ave, my box fell off. I kicked it and kept walking.
I stayed at Posh by myself for way too long. Duplex was having a party at his place that started at 1, but he wasn’t picking up his phone.
And when I woke up the next day with my clothes and boots still on, I thought my alarm clock was joking when it said 2:40. I’d obviously missed the 2:30 invitation to drunk brunch (how the hell?!), so I quietly recovered in my apartment until around 5:30, joining the rest of the crew at Pieces.
Seriously, I walked into Pieces (my head still spinning) and 7 people at the other end of the bar screamed my name in unison.
• my lining up of $2 drinks on the bar to catch up/take advantage of happy hour
• our doing the “Bad Romance” dance 3 times
• Med School Mess’s admitting to having left his new glasses at his apartment (just like that damned scarf last year)
• Med School Mess’s real-time, drunken misplacement of her coat
• Bottomless Pitt’s and my taking this as a sign that MSM didn’t need to come with us to the house party we’d been invited to
• our doing the “Bad Romance” dance again at said house party
• my making out with the host’s ex (but only after sitting next to him on the couch and casually asking, “Hey, do you wanna make out some?”)
Did I mention the hour and change I spent at Rite Aid in Hell’s Kitchen charging my phone and fucking with people who where still on Grindr at 4am? Yeah.
Click here to check out the Black and White Party from last year's NYE.
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Photos borrowed from jordanmountainfarm.com and uglypeoplephotos.com