The HEX

I have spiralled, spiralled deep into the abyss. I believe that I have offended someone very important and/or scary. Here are some highlights of my week/weekend that lead me to this conclusion:

1. I have a Canadian man friend. He has an apartment. It has a bathroom that is shiny and white. I should not be allowed in. I am putting on makeup quickly, because as a girl, one must prove that they can ready themselves for any event in mere moments. Who wants to hang out with someone who spends all day painting and straightening? So, I am proud of my four minute routine and gathering my belongings when my large, beautiful bottle of Chanel foundation slips onto the ground. UGH- thank goodness it's intact. Feeling lucky, I reach down to grab it and instead FLING this shit into the white tile wall where it bursts and spurts EVERYWHERE. I hate my life. I tiptoe into the living room. "Uh, something bad happened......"

2. Upon arriving home, I find my room quite chilly because oh- in NY a lovely, sunny 65 degree day turns into a freezing cold wintery mix in a hot minute. I decide to turn on the heater at least for a while. Oh, right. I built my "closet" just above my radiator. (A happy side effect of this stupidity is that all of my outfits are delightfully warm in the morning.) Keep in mind that my clothes aren't even close to fitting in said "closet." It is a tight freakin fit and you need to know what you're looking for. I have to slide my formal dresses over slightly just for safety reasons, so I stick my hand in and push- simultaneously catching my wrist on a wooden pant hanger and ripping a huge gash down my hand. AWESOME. I look like I just arm wrestled fucking Freddy Crougar.


3. That is all...




















4. On Friday night I finally agree to go out and meet E's man companion. His friends and a few of ours are all meeting at his apartment beforehand. My New Year's resolution being to become more punctual, I arrive first. I am bored. I am drinking. If I don't talk, no one will. I go off on a monologue about where I'm from, how great my neighborhood is, and how if I could be any black man on earth, I would be Jay Z. Yes. All the important stuff. I need to increase my alcohol intake STAT if I'm going to keep this up. Honestly, I don't really remember leaving the apartment, but apparently had a lovely cab ride with my feet through the open partition. I am at Thompson Hotel in SoHo. I drunk dial the Canadian and when asked if I am at the Thompson Hotel in Lower East Side, I agree. WTF? I don't even know where I am? After about 45 minutes of him looking for me at the wrong hotel, I realize what I've done. I think I should get a cab and go find him since this is clearly my drunken fault. Okay, I'm in a cab and I have no clue where the other Thompson Hotel is. No clue. I'm just having this guy DRIVE. By the grace of God (and the patience of the Canadian) I find the other Thompson Hotel and stumble out to meet him at which point he must carry me home. Not like Sweet Chariot carry me home. Like physically haul my ass back to Chelsea, undress me, and put me to bed while listening to me ramble on about craving bread.
WHY ARE THERE TWO HOTELS CALLED THE SAME THING???? I hate my life. Part two.

Late Recap

Soooo, as a follow up to my earlier post about my Sunday morning outfit- here's what happened on Saturday...

My roommates and I have planned a holiday/birthday party and invited about 50 people. I'm going to estimate that about 25 people will fit comfortably in our apartment that is the size of my old closet (ironically, I now have no closet- just a place on the wall to hang clothing that I fashioned out of random materials from Home Depot.) If you are in this situation- simply follow these steps:

1. To compensate for the poor ratio of apartment to guests, create a very desirable ratio of guests to food/alcohol. The logic being that the drunker people are, the less they will care about your roommate's boyfriend's coworker's friend accidentally grabbing their ass. Repeatedly.

**Mulled wine- check

Tower of chocolate chip cookies- check'

Chips, cupcakes, dip, choco-peanuts, and other artery-clogging foods- check

Ridiculous amount of green and red jello shots- check

All available half empty bottles of liquor in our apartment (including one Nalgene bottle full

of something clear)- check

2. Don't worry about refrigerator space- as long as it's cold, just keep all of the open alcohol on the fire escape (aka "terrace") for chilling. This creates much more space for the 100 dixie cups full of jello and vodka. [As a side note: In case you are, like me, from the South and attempting to make jello shots in NYC- you CANNOT buy Everclear in the city. It is actually illegal. Maybe someone accidentally set themselves on fire or something... i dunno]

3. Create harmony among your guests- i.e, invite all of the guys in your apartment building and none of the girls.

4. Once the guests clearly outnumber the amount of square footage, ditch your apartment for a bar only inviting the harmonious guests which you have deemed worthy of hanging out with you. And bring the Nalgene bottle full of the clear stuff.

Visual aids:

Footnote: don't forget to taste several of the jello shots before any guests arrive, just to ensure consistency.

Wooot Wooooooot!

We have a real CHRISTMAS TREE!!!! With branches and everything. And white lights with most fabulous ornaments. I am super exiiiited!!!! Luckily it fits into our apartment that is the size of a large closet.

The best part is while a couple of us were decorating, one roommate accidentally came upon a website that solicits people who want to cheat on their spouses. Like a dating websites for those who purposely commit adultery and want to show off the size of their penises online......... Riiight.

Merry Christmas America