In the same night as Toys for Tots, I had committed to Calipornia's 30th(?) birthday at TriBeCa Cinema, and I had been invited to a holiday party hosted by one of the gay VPs at my new job.
After a couple of vodka tonics (VP status [or at least age] = low-cal mixers only), I raced down to Chelsea on the train. It wasn't til I got out at 23rd street that I remembered I needed a toy to donate! Best believe I went into CVS and got the cutest stuffed Snoopi a 3 year old could hope for (and it fit right into The Blackout Budget)!
|image from allmygems.blogspot.com|
A short cab ride later (you don't think I was hoofing the 3+ avenue blocks, did you!) I checked my name on the list. I saw the mountain of toys where I was supposed to drop Snoopi, and I hesitated. I mean, we'd kind of bonded over the course of the cab ride. And by bonded, I mean that he would have been an awesome prop.
My first stop (after coat check) was the restroom. Scooting past the stall line, I found the urinals virtually clear (I love gay functions). And who should pass by as I'm washing my hands? The now-estranged boy situation: Grrber. I laughed at the fact that we both happened to be wearing leather top (my blazer and his shirt/jacket combo thingy). We did a quick cheek kiss, and within 2 seconds, he was gone.
. o O (Damn, that's it?)
The party is at Pier 60, which has a capacity of a few thousand people. I now had the fun task of finding people I knew who had managed to get tix while they were still available. Of course, I ran into a Grindr date on the way.
Just after I saw Urban Sprawl's face uncomfortably close to the camera in one of those official group pictures displayed on the jumbotron (a station was set up in one of the far corners), I ran into her with RSTLNE at the central most bar. Eventually, TTT and a couple of other friends found us.
|image from gawker.com|
Most of the rest of the party I spent watching guys avert their eyes when I caught them staring, seeing pictures of people I knew on the jumbotron but not seeing them in the crowd ("This is worse than FourSquare!"), and gawking over how easy it was to get a drink quickly. Did I mention it was open bar?
Urban Sprawl: "Look at Bloomie on the Jumbotron."
Me (seeing a familiar, well-dressed face on the screen with about 6 other guys): "Who?"
Sprawl: "Uh, Mayor Bloomberg... the mayor of New York City, which is the patch of land you're currently—"
Me: "Look, Bitch. I don't work in City Hall like you, so I'm not so familiar with y'all's pet names for the Mayor... But damn, he looked gay as hell in that picture. I mean he fit right in."
The party as scheduled til about 11. At 10:15, every bar I went to was out of vodka. That was my sign to move on. I obvi wasn't the only one who got this sign because it literally took my walking 2 avenues to catch a cab. By the time I'd arrived at Calapornia's party, it was starting to wind down. Luckily, I was drunk enough not to care about the consequences of listening to the shirtless boys who offered me mini cupcakes with butter-cream frosting.
|image from Calipornia's friend's Facebook profile.|
At midnight, they were headed to Bartini. On 10th ave. Did I mention that I love that No Parking is a block from the train? Yeah.
Fuck snow. Click here to read about a hot time on Fire Island (FIBO '10).
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