New York is so funny in that there are certain people you never run into–despite the fact that they may only live a block away from you–and then there are other people that you see all the freaking time.

For instance, I see this one dude from college all over the East Village. He was part of the whole Euro crowd (which was considered exotic and cool back then) and I would hang out with this crowd from time to time since we had mutual friends. And I quickly learned that if there is anything more annoying than cheesy euros it’s FAUX euros.

New Yorkers take one foreign language class and think they have the linguistic dexterity of a UN interpreter. And as soon as they are in the company of someone from France or Spain, they start speaking French or Spanish, which leads to excluding everyone else from the conversation. And by everyone, I mean– me!

Okay, obviously I wish I mastered another language. I am barely competent in English.

As for this weekend, I definitely saw my share of foreigners, good friends, and people not from this planet.

I stayed in on Friday and made it a blockbuster night. I rented Margot at The Wedding and ate a carton of Haagen Dasz chocolate peanut butter icecream. I tried to forget that I was an embodiment of everything clichéd and frightening. I also tried to forget the fact that I was watching the cinematic equivalent of going to a horrible bar and only staying because you paid a $5 cover and have to get your money’s worth and you pay for it by being stuck with horrible people for two hours.

On Saturday, I meet up with Binnie for a cup of coffee because I was up at 830 in the morning (this is what happens when you don’t go out on Fridays). Then I walk around soho to look for some cheap sandals.

I run into my friend Kenny and his girlfriend. They are the type of people that go to China to run a marathon at The Great Wall. They are also insanely attractive and nice so it is hard to hate them which makes me hate them even more. They are on their way to dim sum. Afterwards, they will probably swim to Antarctica.

I go to Old Navy and look for some flip flops.

I augment my lazy afternoon by heading to the lower east side to meet up with Meredith and Rachel at Barrio Chino. On my way there I run into Balint. See what I mean about running into people? I think it’s also interesting that I run into so many people because I have such horrible vision yet amazing face recognition. Can I parlay that into a career? Maybe I could help the FBI look for serial killers? Or celebrities?

At Barrio Chino we savor guacamole, micheladas, and rosaaay. Then we head out to Long Island City for the PS 1 party.

Now I’ve waxed on about PS1 and how it’s so fun and has an attractive crowd but this PS 1 was just the wackness. Lots of dudes wearing shirts that were tighter and shorter sleeved than mine.

I did notice one attractive fellow in a green shirt who was tall with dark hair and a beard (of course). But he was talking to another guy the entire time so I couldn’t’ tell if he was gay or just really euro.

Oh, and this couple next to us lost their child. The DJ made two announcements about a missing kid but no one at PS 1 could hear or seemed to care. So if you see some random British kid roaming Queens Boulevard in his diapers, please call the authorities.

I go home and decide to call it a night because I am so exhausted (remember I have been up since 8:30). On my subway ride, I recognize this random dude that I had barbecue with in Williamsburg a couple of years ago. I remember Meredith and I kept calling him Meth Guy. I think it’s because he ate so much but his thigh was the size of my wrist.

Rachel and Meredith head to this comic book themed bar in Bushwick. The bartender there hasn’t gone on a date in forever so they held some faux dating game for him. Turns out that Rachel won a date with him at The Olive Garden. I should’ve gone!

Instead, I go home and watch the Oxygen channel.

After watching Raising Helen for the billionth time, I think to myself: THIS CAN NOT BE MY LIFE FOR A SECOND NIGHT IN A ROW. So I throw on a dress, head to Williamsburg, and meet up with Henri for dinner at Planet Thai.

After dinner, Henri’s friend convinces us to go to this dive bar in Fort Greene. This place is called Alibi. It is also the kind of place that you would not want to use as an alibi in the event of an arrest. I overheard the bartender making fun of one of the patrons for acting like it was his first time going to a bar. Evidently the dude ordered a shot of rum.

RUM!

The bartender says, “In my 12 years of bartending, I have never had one person ask me for a shot of rum.”

Henri is talking to this one chick who is at the bar alone and it turns out she is there with an ex boyfriend and an ex husband. I know everyone has baggage but usually you leave that shit at home, you don’t bring them to the bar.

Then I get in a cab and I notice a man in a green shirt walking down the street. It is the hot guy from PS One!!!! What are the odds of seeing someone in Queens that afternoon and then seeing them in Brooklyn later that evening??? IT MUST BE FATE!!!!

Oh, except for the fact that he was with the same dude that he was talking to all afternoon at PS 1.

So I’m still not sure if he’s gay or euro.

Or maybe he’s pretending to be euro.

In which case, I hate him.