I knew it was going to be one of those days.

My alarm doesn’t go off and I wake up at 8:45 A.M. I look at the clock and yell F$%!!!$ S#$%!!!!. I’m supposed to be at work at nine. I brush my teeth and pick up clothes off the floor that look semi-clean. I do the smell check. If they smell okay then they are wearable. I hastily choose a black top and black skirt. Then I run for the bus like Carl Lewis on steroids. I arrive at work at 9:15 A.M.

As soon as I arrive everyone and their mother give me work to do. What the hell? Do I look like I work here? Oh, right.

After work I walk home in the 90 degree weather, sweat dripping from every pore. Ever have a sweat mustache? Well, I have a sweat beard.

I walk into my apt and my roommate Vic tells me she also had a crappy day. As I sit at my computer, woefully staring at an empty inbox, she says, “Wanna grab a drink?”

YEEEEEEEEES!

So we both put on little cute dresses and heels and skip over to Yuca Bar on Avenue A. Have I told you about their happy hour deal? 5 dollar mojitos and margaritas until 8 p.m. I have three in an hour. I am slowly slipping into a tequila fueled state of bliss.

Then we go to Bua bar for some hoegardens and sit outside where we run into our friend Dan. This is what I love about New York. You don’t see someone for ages and then you just run into them on the street. He was with his friend (who I might add is very cute) and heading over to a bar.

So we finish our hoes and then go over to Niagara to meet up with them. For some reason me and Dan’s friend (who I might add is also Persian) start talking about the He-man movie with Dolph Lundgren and Courtney Cox. Maybe it’s the 5 drinks in my system but I start to think he is very smoochable. There are three ways to win my affections: knowledge of obscure pop culture references, a box of ferrero rochers, and a margarita.

Then we all go to Hi-fi and this is where I start to veer into Freudian territory where I lose my superego and it’s all id. I start craving pizza. I tell everyone I have to go because I have an early meeting in the morning. The Persian friend offers to walk me home. I tell him I want pizza and stop at Muzzarella. I get the crispiest and gooeyest pepperoni slice. I offer to get the Persian friend a slice but he doesn’t want one. I think the Persian friend is making conversation with me but I am too busy making love to a slice.

After I finish I tell him that I’ll be fine walking the rest of the way home. He gets my number. Score for Jinius!

This morning my roommate tells me that when the Persian friend came back to the bar he said, “I tried to walk her home but all she wanted was pizza.”

But my favorite line: “And when she was done with her slice she said, ‘Want a second one?’ and I was like I haven’t even had a first one.”

Anyway, dear readers, the important lesson is that if you’re having a bad day, get thee a margarita and a slice of pepperoni pizza. Getting smoochies from boys is secondary.

*Update-My friend Binnie just informed me that “once you go persian, there is no other version.” Loves it.