It is a wonder that I am somehow still alive.

Despite my proclivity to drink like a Vietnam Vet and turn into a stumbling zombie by the end of the night, I still somehow manage to find my way home. I’m like a cat. I just have an inner gps system that directs my sleepwalking self to my apartment.

But on this particular 3rd of July, my inner gps system must have exceeded its battery capacity. Pay attention because this is what they refer to as foreshadowing!

Thursday or why I need a chaperone

I go to Jack’s 3rd of July roof top party. Roof top parties are an imperative for a 4th of July weekend. Grilled meat and ice cold beer just taste better against the backdrop of the city. I didn’t take any pictures of the impressive view because my hands were occupied by food and a glass of rosaaaay at all times (more foreshadowing!) but I shall paint this lovely urban portrait for you.

Picture it: Jack’s roof. July 3, 2008.There are about a hundred hipsters squeezed onto this roof. There is Famous Fat Dave manning the grill. We ask him how he got designated as grill master and he replies, “I just love grilling. I’m doing it for the community. For the kids.” There is genuine love and content in this man’s grilling. But after a couple of hours, I think he is a bit overwhelmed because he is deluged in sweat and he eventually turns off the grill and throws off his apron.

We are near the ipod so Ursy puts on some Michael Jackson. Nothing creates party unity like some old school Michael Jackson. Hmmm, maybe Obama should consider playing Man in the Mirror at the Democratic Convention? So we all start dancing and by “we” I mean me and my group of friends, when all of a sudden one of the party guests turns off the Michael Jackson and puts on some indie song that we’ve never heard of.

From that point on, we kept referring to that man as THE MAN WHO KILLED HAPPINESS.

So I just keep drinking more rosaaaay. I start talking to one dude at the party about Carl Jung– a subject that should never be brought up at a party, especially after one is already on their second bottle of rosaaaay.

So lets fast forward to the end of the night. I get to my apartment building. I go up to the my apartment and try to open the door. Except my key will not go in. I keep jamming my key into the keyhole, thinking that will surely enable the door to open. I furiously bang on the door. I call my roommate and tell her to let me into the apartment. She says, “But you’re not at the front door.”

So after about twenty minutes of pounding on the door and CRYING–yes, I am actually so frustrated that I start crying–, I realize I am at the wrong apartment. I call my roommate again and she can’t figure out where I am and I can’t figure out where I am or even what planet I am on at this point, so she tells me to meet her at this spot near our building. We meet. Apparently I was at the building next to our apartment this entire time.

Dear Future Boyfriend:

THIS IS WHAT YOU WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH.


Friday or how you can get a guy to kiss you after eating kimchee all night

I wake up and immediately check the contents of my purse. Wallet? Check. License? Check. My dignity? Nowhere to be found.

I call some of my friends and tell them what happened. I am swimming in embarrassment. I’ve been living in my apartment for like four years. How the hell could I get lost? But my embarrassment is allayed when my friends tell me that the same thing has happened to them. It’s nice to know that we’ve all been there. Some of just have just been there more than others.

We head to K-town for our 4th of July dinner. Because nothing says I love America like Korean bbq. We go to my favorite Korean bbq spot. This place is so nice to us even though everytime we go there we end up dancing on the tables and smoking cigarrettes. I guess this is why they always isolate us in the private room. Oh, and they hook us up with free beer!



This is soju, or Korean vodka. Note that the name of this particular soju is called Special Charm. Hmmm, I suppose there is something special and charming about a liquor so potent that you won’t even remember your own name after two hours.

And after drinking soju you want to place flag stickers on your man parts and have your friends pinch them!



Then we head to karaoke, another patriotic activity that all Americans should do on the 4th.

My backside. Or my best side. Hahahaha…er.



So during karaoke I get a text from the bearded guy. We end up meeting at this bar near my apartment. I am at the bar with my guy friends and when bearded guy walks in he says, “Why did you invite me to a sausage fest?”

Bearded guy is funny.

I tell him that we have to go to my favorite pizza place because clearly the ten pounds of grilled meat I had at dinner was just not cutting it. So we grab a slice and he’s like “what do you wanna do now?” and he’s trying to get me to go back to his place in Brooklyn and I tell him he can come over but that we have to keep it PG-13.

So he comes over and we keep it PG-13. Or maybe more like PG-18.

Saturday or how to do a city in three hours

My friends and I wanna get out of the city so we take a last minute road trip to Philly. I tell the bearded guy he has to leave because I’m going to Philly.

“Why are you going to Philly?”
“For cheesesteaks and lobster mac n cheese.”
“You’re driving two hours for food?”
“Yes.”

So me, Ursy, Sabbie,and Paula get in a car and head to Philly. Beirut is blasting. The windows are down. The sun is massaging our skin. The summer breeze tickling our faces. And we can’t figure out how to get out of Brooklyn.

But we eventually get on the road!

So we make it to Philly.

We have coffee at lovely La Colombe. We walk around Rittenhouse, South Street, and go to Jim’s for cheese steaks. The line is wrapped around the block.

Sabs and I decide to split a cheesesteak because we don’t want an angioplasty at the age of 28.

Unfortunately, we don’t have time for the famous lobster mac n cheese at The Continental but it is perhaps for the best because clearly the last thing I need after a week of meat and pizza is a dish full of cheese and butter. But I shall return. That lobster mac n cheese will be mine!!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Er…moving on…

We finally make it back to New York. We end the night with margaritas and lobster rolls at Trout in Brooklyn.


This was probably the best Fourth of July weekend ever. I did all my favorite things: roof top party, rosaaaay, Korean bbq, karaoke, smoochies, road tripping, and cheese steak.

I could’ve done without the getting lost part but hopefully that will serve as a good enough deterrent from drinking excessively in the future.

Or perhaps I will just continue to rely on the kindness of my friends.