"Who died and made you Brian Kinney?"
Last night, Grand Central. Downtown.
Wait. Rewind. Prologue: Last night, downtown, City Cafe. Anna, Ariel, and I are sitting at an outside table waiting for the club to get busy enough to make an entrance. Because we were in our high school's neighborhood, Anna starts talking about how Mr. Kent (the art department head) has gotten a tiny pug "in his old age," which he keeps around constantly on his lap. We all howl and giggle about how strange he was. We look up. Mr. Kent is sitting two tables down from us, looking peeved. With said pug in his lap. Anna turns a shade of crimson not usually seen in nature and makes us cross the street when we walk away. I giggle madly.
Okay. Now, Grand Central. When I walked in the door, I noticed a chick checking me out. I mean the full body once-over. She was cute-- pretty face, tall, thin body. Kinda femme in a black skirt and tank top. I nod and smile and head in with the girls. Everything goes pretty well-- I have my one and only margarita of the night and we get to dancing on the floor. After about fifteen minutes, I need a bathroom break. So off I go, and I do my thing. I come out of the bathroom, and that chick is standing there, waiting for me outside the stall. Her way of saying hello? Grabbing me by the crotch, trailing up to the hip, and smiling before she slid in the door. Well okay then. Go on with your bad self. A little forward, but hey.
So, I'm dancing, and she comes up and introduces herself. Her name began with a C (Cara? Carey? ETA: Clara!), but I can't remember, because it has since been replaced in my brain by "Scare-a." She proceeds to attach herself to me like fucking superglue. And I'm like, okay. Dude. You're pretty cute, one of the cutest here, and it's all good, but you're comin' on a little strong. This surpasses the usual dancefloor bump-n-grind. Chill a bit. You know, with the hands. The hands in the very wrong places. After about 10 minutes of essentially being molested, I break away to find Ariel and Anna, who are seemingly confused and think that I was down. I give them the look.
So. A bottle of water. More dancing. Girl is back up all in my business. I give Ariel the look. Ariel then proceeds to get all up in my business to put Scare-a off, and she does back off, but not before clawing me. Bitch left a goddamn scratch mark straight down my arm. I mean, granted, it's not Becky Grossman levels of skanky with biting or anything, but damn.
I head to the bar to get some more water, and am approached by a lady who's there as part of a bachelorette party who wants to know if I'll dance with her friend who was getting married tomorrow. Or well, today, I guess. I said sure, sure, and that was how I ended up in the middle of an entire bridal party vs. me humpfest. It was five on one. I was dead smack in the middle and oh man, once again with the hands in the interesting places. Ten minutes later, I escape to the bathroom.
The bathroom is apparently my lucky place. Because I come out, and there is a hot chick standing there waiting. Tall, gorgeous body, beautiful curly brown hair, hot fitted white tee shirt. Just overall really fucking hot. And she proceeds to tell me that she's been watching me since she came in, and she knows she's out of luck 'cause obviously I have a girlfriend, right? And I'm like, nope. You are in fact in luck. So. I spent two hours getting to know Michelle-- cross country runner originally from PA. Who was also rather hands-on, but at least she had the good grace to ask first. Meanwhile, Scare-a is giving me the glare of death. She finally gave up and hooked up with the chick Ariel had dissed the week before. We're sure that was a charming little pow-wow, because they were definitely looking at us very pointedly and sharing notes. Anyway. I danced with Michelle for a couple of hours, and she got my number. I guess we see if anything comes of that. Um. You know what I mean.
Quote of the night-- one flamboyant gay guy to his friend, who'd spent the night making out with another guy: "What are you doing?! You have a boyfriend! And a cat!" LOLZ.
We came home to watch (and fall asleep to) Bridget Jones' Diary, like the happenin' babes we are. Heh. I seem to be acquiring many movies based on Jane Austen novels that feature stunning renditions of "All By Myself." And now I am eating brunch-- apple cider, pumpkin butter toast, and a salsa omelette, cooked by Ariel. Life is good!
Wait. Rewind. Prologue: Last night, downtown, City Cafe. Anna, Ariel, and I are sitting at an outside table waiting for the club to get busy enough to make an entrance. Because we were in our high school's neighborhood, Anna starts talking about how Mr. Kent (the art department head) has gotten a tiny pug "in his old age," which he keeps around constantly on his lap. We all howl and giggle about how strange he was. We look up. Mr. Kent is sitting two tables down from us, looking peeved. With said pug in his lap. Anna turns a shade of crimson not usually seen in nature and makes us cross the street when we walk away. I giggle madly.
Okay. Now, Grand Central. When I walked in the door, I noticed a chick checking me out. I mean the full body once-over. She was cute-- pretty face, tall, thin body. Kinda femme in a black skirt and tank top. I nod and smile and head in with the girls. Everything goes pretty well-- I have my one and only margarita of the night and we get to dancing on the floor. After about fifteen minutes, I need a bathroom break. So off I go, and I do my thing. I come out of the bathroom, and that chick is standing there, waiting for me outside the stall. Her way of saying hello? Grabbing me by the crotch, trailing up to the hip, and smiling before she slid in the door. Well okay then. Go on with your bad self. A little forward, but hey.
So, I'm dancing, and she comes up and introduces herself. Her name began with a C (Cara? Carey? ETA: Clara!), but I can't remember, because it has since been replaced in my brain by "Scare-a." She proceeds to attach herself to me like fucking superglue. And I'm like, okay. Dude. You're pretty cute, one of the cutest here, and it's all good, but you're comin' on a little strong. This surpasses the usual dancefloor bump-n-grind. Chill a bit. You know, with the hands. The hands in the very wrong places. After about 10 minutes of essentially being molested, I break away to find Ariel and Anna, who are seemingly confused and think that I was down. I give them the look.
So. A bottle of water. More dancing. Girl is back up all in my business. I give Ariel the look. Ariel then proceeds to get all up in my business to put Scare-a off, and she does back off, but not before clawing me. Bitch left a goddamn scratch mark straight down my arm. I mean, granted, it's not Becky Grossman levels of skanky with biting or anything, but damn.
I head to the bar to get some more water, and am approached by a lady who's there as part of a bachelorette party who wants to know if I'll dance with her friend who was getting married tomorrow. Or well, today, I guess. I said sure, sure, and that was how I ended up in the middle of an entire bridal party vs. me humpfest. It was five on one. I was dead smack in the middle and oh man, once again with the hands in the interesting places. Ten minutes later, I escape to the bathroom.
The bathroom is apparently my lucky place. Because I come out, and there is a hot chick standing there waiting. Tall, gorgeous body, beautiful curly brown hair, hot fitted white tee shirt. Just overall really fucking hot. And she proceeds to tell me that she's been watching me since she came in, and she knows she's out of luck 'cause obviously I have a girlfriend, right? And I'm like, nope. You are in fact in luck. So. I spent two hours getting to know Michelle-- cross country runner originally from PA. Who was also rather hands-on, but at least she had the good grace to ask first. Meanwhile, Scare-a is giving me the glare of death. She finally gave up and hooked up with the chick Ariel had dissed the week before. We're sure that was a charming little pow-wow, because they were definitely looking at us very pointedly and sharing notes. Anyway. I danced with Michelle for a couple of hours, and she got my number. I guess we see if anything comes of that. Um. You know what I mean.
Quote of the night-- one flamboyant gay guy to his friend, who'd spent the night making out with another guy: "What are you doing?! You have a boyfriend! And a cat!" LOLZ.
We came home to watch (and fall asleep to) Bridget Jones' Diary, like the happenin' babes we are. Heh. I seem to be acquiring many movies based on Jane Austen novels that feature stunning renditions of "All By Myself." And now I am eating brunch-- apple cider, pumpkin butter toast, and a salsa omelette, cooked by Ariel. Life is good!