Monday, December 10, 2007

I killed Christmas

Friday night, I went on a date with my roommate. Okay get your mind out of the gutter for thinking of girl on girl action, we just felt like we actually have hung out less since moving in together. Strange I know. Anyway, the night started with Miller Lite pounders in the apartment. After a few beers, we decided we should spend the night messing with tourists. We therefore threw on the most ridiculous outfits EVER! I was wearing a floral summer wedding appropriate dress over my jeans and t-shirt. Since that wasn’t enough, I put on a belt (over the dress) and pinned on a fake flower to act as my corsage. To match my floral theme, Bree put on her bright pink and white floral pajamas over a green shirt and off white leg warmers.

Now that we were dressed for the part, we headed into the tourist Mecca…..Times Square. At the first bar (an Irish pub) we decided our back story is that we were from the Hamptons…and that we were kind of a BIG DEAL (said deeeee-aaauuuul). Yeah some of the things we would say to the other customers were “see the flower, well everyone wears them, because it is the Hamptons” or “they don’t have Miller Lite! This would so not fly in the Hamptons”. Now multiply that by drunk squared. We eventually headed on, but not before taking a secret picture of a tourist in a horrible ski sweater with a turtle neck. Gaaaawww!

We walked across the street to a very swanky looking place complete with a door bouncer, list, and velvet rope. Having whiskey courage, I just walked up to him and said “My name is (my name…with emphasis on the last name), I’m on the list”. He flipped thru the pages while Bree and I impatiently acted and said stuff like “you know my grandfather is Bose speakers” and “in the Hamptons, we would not be waiting so long”. Since our self-belief in our “story” was so great, the door bouncer flipped to a random page and said “oh yeah, here you are, go right ahead”. Ummmm….did we just pull that off? Not only were we not on the list, but we were dressed like absolute lunatics!

So we were required to check our coats, so we tried to trick the lady and avoid paying for two coats by shoving them in together. She was obviously not fooled since the end result was some misshapen mass. The hemorrhaging from our wallet didn’t stop. At the bar, we ordered two well drinks, and the total came to $33! What the hell! What do they need that money for….oh wait….the pool! Yeah there was a pool in the club! Well more like a very very very large warm bath, but you get the point. People were actually swimming and playing with beach balls in it. I guess you could buy a suit if you wished to take a dip. Of course the novelty of having a swimming pool in the middle of a club meant the whole place was super humid and reeked of chlorine.

While exploring the club, a couple (who consisted of a hot Asian woman and handsome black guy) approached us. They were behind us in the coat check line earlier, and they found us hilarious. Well they asked out of the blue, “so are you two having a good time…want to make it better…we are looking for a third to join us”. Hum, did I hear that correctly? Bree blurted out, “I have a boyfriend” and left me with them. The guy turned to his Asian girl and asked her if she liked me. She purred back an affirmative while she petted his arm. They then began to describe what they would do to me and I admit, I considered it because I could cross off three things from my list, hot Asian, hot black guy, and threesome. I made up some sad excuse that my phone was ringing and ran off.

I plopped down in a booth and interrupted Bree and some douche bag in mid conversation by saying out of the blue “I’m a trust fund baby (sigh)”. Since our nursed drinks were all but gone, we headed out the door after causing yet another commotion at the coat check where Bree bought suckers off of the guy only to unwrap and return them because they did not taste good.

We headed down the block to yet another Irish pub. The place was flooded with British guys who could not get enough of us yanks. Over in the corner, the bar had a life-sized Santa. The mannequin had so much shit on it’s face (beard etc) that the chin sagged down to the chest. Basically it looked like Santa was trying to nod off while standing up. I would have none of that and tried to adjust his head to the proper position. Well while I am pulling back his head, I hear a SNAP and I am left clutching Santa’s dismembered head in my hands! Yeah….I ripped Santa’s head off! I am standing there next to a headless Santa panicking when a nearby girl was like “just get rid of it”. So, I threw the head into a nearby booth and ran back to blend in the crowd. The brits and I were having a good laugh looking at the decapitated Santa (and secretly praying that no children walk in) when a busboy passed, did a double take, and gingerly put the head back on. Too bad I snapped it clean off, so any gentle bump in to the mannequin would result in the head rolling off. Ah ha ha ha!


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