I originally wrote this blog last Friday and was going to finish it when the day was over. Unfortunately, the document I saved it to has disappeared… so I am a tad bit ANGRY. And I’m fighting with myself because I should have just copied and pasted it yesterday. Of course not!
Friday. Friday. Friday… I wore a black shirt and a floral skirt. And my pink chucks. My hair was piled, all curly, on top of my head with a gray headband/bow. Very cutesy, if I do say so myself.
As for the rest of the day? At this point, it’s a ridiculous blur. How funny it is that I can get everything so mixed up so quickly! I AM a 90-year-old! I DO recall a storm, and me being ridiculously amused while some of the women in the office area freaked out because New York gets hurricanes. Hi. If there were a hurricane, we would have known. It’s not like a tornado. GROW UP! I DO recall the internet guy coming to replace our modem. I DO remember the AC guy coming to fix a leak in the closet. Not just any closet. MY closet. The one I had worked all week to clean/organize! Yup! That’s right, folks! And because of their insurance policy, I had to physically go into the closet and pull every box I worked so hard to condense and manipulate (think Tetris) out. My heart was in shambles.
There was a photoshoot in BK that everyone had to go to. I told them I would stay so that the AC guy could finish up. But after they left, he decided to tell me his life story. This random old man who hadn’t spoken a word to anyone ALL DAY had just decided to tell me all about himself: his wife, the insurance policy at work, how he got yelled at, how hot it was outside, etc. I couldn’t have wanted to punch him more. But I didn’t. And he was done around 4:45pm. On the day I actually had plans at 3:30.
So, I headed off to Herald Square to meet Patrick (who is this fabulous person I met and only knew all-too-briefly in college), who was in the city for a couple of days. We were going to meet in Union Square, but there was a miscommunication on my part, so I met him in the shade by the statue at 36th and 6th, where he had taken refuge from the now sunny skies. We talked. And talked. It was nice to just sit and speak with someone… to catch up and not have to hear about them in passing or on Facebook. We are both awkward conversationalists who share the same opinion of USD and have some of the same life experiences and outlooks, so I enjoyed my time with him (he will probably tell you he loathed it). We parted ways at the PATH so he could go to Hoboken and meet his brother. I went home.
By the time I got home, it was far too late to make it to MOMA with Jess before she left for Boston at 7. So, I made myself some dinner and hung out with her for the remaining hour or so. I helped her carry her things downstairs and waited inside the doors to our apartment building while she ran across the street (AVIS is conveniently located for us) to retrieve a rental car. I got her and Jackson all packed up, and was headed back inside. To those of you who are familiar with my building, you know that you have to use the same key twice to get in on the 64th St. side. I got in the first door with no problems, but the second door has been problematic lately and I got stuck between the two doors, which I know made me look dorky. After about 3 minutes trying the handle, I walked to the 65th St. side out of annoyance.
I know, I’m a boss.
Michael got home around 9:15, and we headed off to Paul’s house to hang out for awhile. We got lost on our way to Paul’s because he lives in Stuy Town and, let’s be real here, even people who LIVE there can’t figure it out. Let alone at night. We ran through puddles of mud and got irritated enough that we almost gave up! But we made it. Paul’s friends were doing that thing that I loathe, when you change the song right after you recognize it and everyone around you starts singing. But they did it… with EVERY SONG. After a little while of that shit, I realized I was ready to bounce. But at that point, everyone had decided we needed to go dancing. Okay.
We ended up at Eastern Bloc.
For those of you who don’t know, Eastern Bloc is a gay bar. I was fine with it, but it was also my first experience like that. So I wasn’t necessarily prepared. I had to avert my eyes from the televisions at the bar because they were not–contrary to popular belief about all gay bars, in my opinion–playing sports. I danced. I was conservatively dressed and didn’t have to pay for drinks. I lost an earring, which was quickly recovered on a chair. And, after a really long time, we left. We jaunted back over to Paul’s so that we could use the restroom and then Michael and I made our way out of Stuy Town.
But we got lost. Again. And went out on the 20-something St. side. Which was an overshoot of our subway by blocks upon blocks. And it was pouring rain. So we walked a lot of the way back and made it to a subway and then got McDonald’s. At 3am. By the time we left McD’s to walk home, the rain had stopped.
Friday was over by 4am Saturday.