I had one crazy fun weekend.
Friday night I went into NYC for my friends 32nd Birthday. I didnt want to go, but no one else was going, so I went.
We ended up going Webster Hall, which is a big club. I hate big clubs with an evil passion. I prefer the smaller places which are lounges/clubs. At least you can talk and mingle much easier.
We walked in, and paid an exorbitant amount of money to get into the club. I was not too happy about that, but then again, it wasnt my birthday. If we had gotten into the club before 12, the admission was free. We got in at 12:08am.
We first went to the reggae room, where I had my Watermelon Martini, and she had a Hypnotic. I wasnt out to meet anyone that night, I just wanted to dance. I dont think guys have the "Im going to the club to dance" mentality. Random guys came up from behind, put their arms around my waist and tried dancing with me. Im prudish enough to be disgusted and irritated by this form of a salutation, and I would either just walk away, or turn around and tell them to leave me alone. Then I was chillin' by the wall, and someone thought it would be ok to pretend he was dancing with me. I told him to go away.
At this point I was in full bitch mode. We moved up to the second floor, and there was my kind of music. All sorts of 80's and early 90s pop music. They even played Baby Got Back. I was psyched. Then some of my strange buddies from the reggae floor found me on the 2nd floor and tried dancing with me. When one of them came up to me and got a little too close (yet again), I said,"Oh no, not this shit again!" I think I turned him off entirely. But I was happy dancing with my friend.
TO get all of our money's worth, we had to go up to the techno/house floor which was cool. At least there, everyone was entranced by the music and there were some fun people to mingle with. Then all of a sudden, a man in a very tight Santa suit was swinging from a trapeeze that hung from the ceiling. This was interesting, because I thought he was going to hit the ceiling more than once. And his Santa Suit was really tight. It really accentuated every curve in his skinny little body. Plus, I've never seen a trapeeze inside a building at all. I was intrigued.
Finally after floor hopping and avoiding weird people who insisted on invading my personal space, we sat in a chair, where a guy asked my friend if he could talk to me.She told him to ask me, and he said, "She looks like she'll say no." My friend told him, that if he asked me right, I may say yes. Once again, a wacky guy felt like the only way he could have a conversation with me, was keeping his face a half an inch from my face. His breath stunk, and I obviously not interested, so he went away.
Yes, Im slightly prudish. I dont like it when some random person thinks he can just rub himself and his dirty sweat against me. I also think its possible to have a conversation with someone who is at least 5 inches away from my face. Far enough so no spittle can rest on my skin.
I actually did have fun when I had the chance to dance peacefully. Then by 3:30, we were poopooed. We went to get our coats, and got into a nice 45 minute conversation with the guy at the coat check. That was my favorite part of the night. He was too funny, and we were just cracking up.
So that was Friday night/Saturday morning. I went home Saturday afternoon, and as soon as I turned into my driveway, I hit the curb (dont drive and talk on the cell phone at the same time), and the sidewall of my tire suffered a gash, and I got a flat. I changed the tire, and put the donut tire on. THen Sunday morning, I went to the garage, and had to wait 2 goddamn hours for them to change my tire.
I've left out Saturday night and Sunday afternoon...more to come as time permits.