I am not the not so proud owner of a new 3Gs iPhone. I say no so proud of course because my new purchase is the result of complete idiocy on my part. I've had a cell phone for nearly ten years and have never lost my phone until now. No, I lose the $400 serious piece of machinery that I am lost without.
I've been so focused on the shitty end to my night, that I forgot to focus on the awesomeness that was everything before 4:30 am. Let's review. My friend had her birthday party at Santos Party House. Still not sure if it's a gay bar or not but all's I can say is penis, penis, penis. Who said New Yorkers are jaded? We were all shocked, entertained and somewhat delighted to see perfectly chiseled (yet delicate) men in speedos seductively dancing on top the bar. The front stage contained a performance piece that was a sexually explicit play on cooking shows which included Amanda Lepore in the background. Need I go on? Okay, I will. Staying true to form, I danced on top of a bench which was on a higher staged area with the birthday girl. I can imagine we probably would have gained more attention elsewhere. While being pulled onto the bench, I managed to drop my drink, spilling half on my new dress, and the other half on the bench, making the whole experience thrilling yet deadly.
Three cheers for the birthday girl. She swong me into the only group of single, straight men in the whole joint. Added bonus, the five attractive men are MBA students at Columbia. I wish I had talked to the sexy Spaniard longer but they left from dancing exhaustion. Yeah, there was a whole lot of sweating going on.
After the birthday girl left, I convinced my boyz to hit up Solas, of course. Hadn't been there since I moved uptown and was slightly entertaining to see the same old faces. As I was getting water and about to leave, a guy worked the "what's your poison" line. Yeah, he went there. Not knowing anyone else in the bar, I spoke to him for a bit and we realized we live on the same block. What are the chances. Also learned that his mother is a diplomat. We agreed to share a cab uptown and get pizza. mmmm. Whole Wheat Pizza. He walked me home and I'll end my story there... because the rest of the night is too painful to recap in detail. But basically involved me taking a cab back to Solas, banging on their shuttered doors, taking a cab back home, and then psuedo crying myself to sleep.
On a brighter note - word on the street is that Oprah was at the Apple Store while I was buying my phone. Whole story would have been so much cooler if it involved Oprah making a surprise "Angel" visit to the store and paying for my new phone. But alas, I'll have to seriously conserve my dough and cook like a responsible adult. There was also an attractive (but completely crazy) man dressed in a red cape and red boxing shorts (sans briefs!) at the store with his two sons. holding an oversized barbie doll. So wish I could have gotten the full story on that.
What's that saying? The truth is better than fiction?
Truth, better than fiction.