Sunday Morning

Last week was extremely ridiculous, even by my standards. It was so ridiculous that last night, I was in bed by 8:30, and asleep shortly after that.

Monday: LK and I met up with her close friend, The Photographer, at El Centro for 'a drink'. Which turned into several drinks and dinner, followed by hanging out with MS, whom I called on my way home and cajoled into coming downstairs to smoke with me.

Tuesday: Late night craziness at my apartment with The Librarian.

Wednesday: Dinner in the 'hood, drinks at The Snug (which finally opened, yay!), champagne at The Renaissance, more drinks at Vintage.

Thursday: Book Club. (and no, we didn't ask or answer any of those discussion questions.. We mostly drank wine and deconstructed the latest US Weekly.) Then onto The Phoenix, followed by Bamboo52, and Posh. At Posh, I was unabashedly mean to a Sweaty PR Annoying Guy who just wouldn't go away. So I got meaner and meaner, and he still didn't leave us alone. Huh.

Friday: Dinner with JP to discuss the recent events between us, his hurt feelings at my non-attendance of his cocktail party, the woman that he is in love with in Boston, and the woman he is dating in New York. Feelings are soothed and the wine was good. Then off to Flatiron Lounge for a 2nd date with Anti-Robin Hood. It was good. Very, very good. Frighteningly good.

Saturday: 9:00 am train to Jones Beach. Sun, sand, gay men in satin jumpsuits, Lance in the water 99.9% of the time, Coronas from the beer man, hilarity.

I think I'm going to pause next week and spend some time at Long Beach Island. I need a break.