I will derail a bit from my "show" blogging to a simple Saturday night with the girls (and my lovely Africa).
It was the one and only Ratface's 24th birthday (she has a real, fabulous name, but it's a lot more fun to call her this... might I add she has NOTHING that resembles a rat in her face, she's actually quite pretty, according to my friend Veit, and she has KILLER curves... the kicker? SHE'S SINGLE:) --- she is missing from the photo, just so you know--- she was in one of her disappearing acts.
the Keys and I were to meet her at a place in the Lower East Side called "boss tweeds". So ladies and gentlemen, at this time, I'd like for you to think about this name for a moment. Boss... Tweeds... As the Keys and I came upon this lovely dive, we were ok initially. We were greeted by the Ratface in all her curvy, tight NAVY dress wearing glory, and she'd definitely already taken advantage of the bottomless drink-wristband. We paid our $30 for a green accessory and 3 hours worth of drinks... as much as we could intake in the allotted time. Needless to say, we went to work.
As time moved on, our drinks were refilled, Africa showed up with CUPCAKES, and we took a solid seat at a table. The three of us (the Keys, Africa and I, as Ratface had disappeared sometime after we got there..) started to take a good look around at these tweed bosses, and we weren't too sure we liked what we saw. One gentleman in particular.
Let me set this guy up for you. White "Forbes" college baseball hat, on backwards. White collared shirt, tucked into Abercrombie and Fitch khaki shorts (yeah, we check the label on his butt), brown belt, fleece zip-up vest, and to TOP IT ALL OFF (or down) BOAT SHOES!!!! This kid was out in public, in the CITY OF NEW YORK with this outfit on. Now, for those of you reading this, and realizing you fit this profile, let us partake in a little chat, one that would be greatly appreciated by the Keys. I'll even start with her "word of the night".
POPULAR. This word should have left your vocabulary when you got your high school diploma. No one is popular in college. You might THINK you're popular because a lot of people showed up to your birthday party at that cool bar uptown, but it was only because it was an open bar tab on your daddy's credit card, and your little sister is hot... and was there with hot friends. No one is popular AFTER college. You might assume your popularity is legit because you have a lot of facebook friends... and people are constantly BBMing you, or g-chatting you while you're at your 60hr a week (paying you less than 40hr a week wages) job. But its probably because you have that AMAZING rent control your grandfather bought in the 60s and the rooftop is PERFECT for Saturday soirees. Not to mention all those Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley boys you know... and their GREAT shoes... No, my man, you're not popular. And wearing that little get-up to a dive bar in the LES, carrying around 2 beers, doesn't do a thing for you. Although, it did give us something to talk about.
This leads to the next question, and I'll simply answer it for you: Yes, there are mean girls beyond middle school, beyond high school, and beyond college, because the Keys and I were them on Saturday. Now I will defend myself and my friend in the fact that this guy was ridiculous. He was walking around like he owned the joint (which isn't something I wouldn't brag about considering the bathrooms were as nasty as a frat house on a Sunday morning).
To move forward- At one point, Ratface declared that a mechanical bull was in the works for the evening and that we should all go. Ratface then decided to disappear again.
After finishing our 4th? bottomless drink, and seeing too much plaid for my already pain-filled eyes, the Keys, Africa, and I decided to depart.
We meandered through the streets, making our way over to SoHo, and decided SubMercer was the destination. As we approached, a resounding "no" rang through our heads as the line of hipsters and "too cool for school" kids was out of control.
So, we took our cute little selves and went into the restaurant and through the backdoor. It's good to know people that are nice people:)
Talk about a smoke attack!!! We worked our way through the wine cellar and emerged into a ridiculous scene of skinny bitches and sexy men and realized just how ridiculous their use of the smoke machine was. I mean, People! I couldn't see the beer bottle in front of my face.
Again, we found ourselves on a comfortable seat observing the party-goers and attempting to figure out just what we were seeing. At one point, a lovely girl, about six feet tall and barely 100 lbs asked if she could set her drink on our table, and proceeded to take out her compact. the Keys and I stared in awe, as this lovely girl and her date seemed to have an identical headache or something of the sort, because they took what I assume was aspirin, that conveniently melted in their mouths quickly. Hope they felt better the next morning :)
I could go forward and tell you about the mistaken pass made to Africa and how the lovely gal then proceeded to introduce us to her boyfriend, and we had to bolt from the underground, but I'll save that for another day:)
All in all-- a good night. Maybe next time we'll keep the bottom on the drinks long enough for Ratface to join us in the cellar.
Until next time:)
