It’s Monday night and I’m home from work, in my pajamas drinking water and eating yogurt with my dog. My day began thinking I was f*cked and lost the keys to my car in NYC. I drove to NYC sat on a whim cause a friend of mine had a wrap-up show for a new TV series on netflix and I randomly had the weekend off from the restaurant I work in which never happens. I also had no showings for my house that’s for sale and the other listing is on lockbox so I can answer all that via text. Meaning I’ll be damned if I spend the weekend in RI. Good God do I love NYC, it’s f*cking dirty AF but I like it.
Anyway I wore that cute little romper to the party at The Cutting Room in the above picture, which I love my shoes but looks like I take a size 11 in that pic, wtf is up with that? Um, how the f*ck do you girl’s go to bathroom with that on. Do you put fairies in your purse that come out and unzip it? Well, I did think about this for like 2 min when I was getting dressed and had my friend zip it up, but I was set on wearing this thing and quickly forgot about this issue. Until like 2 hours in and I had to use the bathroom. Well I get in the stall and am like “omg, wtf, how am I getting this off” Well I’m pretty deep into some wine by this point, it was open bar, so I have to jump out the stall and say “Can somebody please help me?!” So someone does, yes I’m asking random strangest in the bathroom to unzip me and zip me up. So after the party I have to change, I’m going to end up wasted strolling around the city in my underwear cause I’m sick of the zipper on this. There is nothing you can put past me after a bottle of wine. So I change into some jeans and sneakers. I watched the snapchat story I took of myself after I changed. It was like I was so proud of myself for putting jeans on. Wow, I am f*cking weird smh. And 17 deer snapchat videos.
So we go to this dive bar in Brooklyn called Rocka Rolla and are sitting on a picnic table outside, when suddenly I feel a spray of liquid on my left side. I can still picture my friend Mike’s face who was on the left side of me. #1 if someone just puked on me. Game over. Time to go home. Mike gets up and looks kind of in shock, he caught the brunt of the “sneeze”. He goes “Bruh, what was that?” To the guy that said he “sneezed” a gallon of God knows what on us. Mike so wanted to be mad, I think we all did, but we all just weren’t sure what to say at that point. So we just moved. Yeah we pretty much just got spit on.
Then proceeded back to the apartment where there was a dj on the roof and a full bar going on at 2:30am. Fast forward. It’s Sunday, we are hungova AF but the Patriots are playing at 1pm. They sucked, but shots of whiskey were $5 and boneless tenders are 40 cents at Croxley Ale house and we all liked that, but be careful they still charged us full price, even after shots my brain inspects the bill like a f*cking detective. So I try to not take shots these days but not today. Whiskey game on. We go to Skinny Dennis, a wicked dive bar which I loved. (I’m from New England, we say wicked alot) Peanuts on the floor, live music, shots of whiskey and Miller high life $7. Fast forward to this morning. I have to work in RI at 3:45pm and I can’t find my keys anywhere in the apartment. We did go throw mountain dew cans around on the roof when we got back, I’ll run up there and pray to God they are there. Well low and behold my keys are sitting on a table, in Brooklyn, on the roof, with 100 empty bottles and cans on it. Nyc I ❤ you! But time to go! Until we meet again!