I’m a Jinius

Friday
It was the end of the week and I decided to reward myself by going to happy hour. (Did BF Skinner invent happy hour?) My friends and I convened at my new favorite bar. It’s my favorite because they serve this drink that is like the master cleanse but spiked with bourbon and they have a hot bartender who graduated highschool in 2002 (wtf??) and gives out free donuts. Is it a coincidence that now every time I see a donut I start salivating? Is someone doing a behavioral experiment on me??

Anyhoo, my hot bartender was not there which was probably a good thing because my friends and I quickly became the loudest people in the place. We knew we were loud when we stopped talking and could actually hear the music in the background.Everyone around us was chatting quietly and eating dinner whereas we were laughing like hyenas. Whatever, I think we were entertaining. If only to ourselves.

We made friends with the bartender but he did not give us free donuts so I did not develop a crush on him. And I had my friend Sabbie ask when my hot bartender was working. Yeah, you know you have a good friend when they are complicit in your stalking.

My hot bartender does not know what he is in for. He will be mine. Oh, yes. He will be mine.

MUAHAHAHHAHAHAHA.

Er…anyway. Here is V sittin’ pretty at the bar.

Sab and Allstadt looking…sober

Div just finished doing the master cleanse. He looks so healthy. Barf!

We are not on the master cleanse. Detox is for sucka mcs!

Saturday
What did I do on Saturday? Shit, my memory is eroding. Oh, yeah, I went to a friend’s engagement party at Obivia. I can’t say that name without laughing and doing a ghetto accent. Obivia. It’s the kind of name that should belong to the wife of a rapper. Or an std.

I had a glass and a half of champagne and decided to leave. The New York bar scene is so depressing sometimes. It was a veritable sausage fest with bad cuts of meat! I’d rather eat in bed and watch re-runs on Bravo. Which is exactly what I did. Ugh.

Excuse me, waiter? I think there’s something wrong with my social life. Can you take it back please?

Sunday
I meet up with Vidya in Brooklyn and we go to this really cute Italian restaurant. We were practically on a date. Vidya did the ordering. I guess she’s the dude in our relationship lol. We shared an appetizer of meatballs covered in sesame seeds and we both had the fettucini al ragu which was OFF THE HOOK. I am not kidding when I say that we licked our plates clean. You could never tell that there was actually red sauce on our plate because it was pristine white by the time we were done.

Dinner was great until the waitress came over to me and said “I have an odd sort of request. There’s this guy over there who is an artist and saw you walk by and really likes your dress and is willing to buy your dress for a hundred dollars. Except you’d have to give him your dress, like, now.”

Ummm, okay, Buffalo Bill. First of all, my dress cost MORE than a hundred dollars and second of all, am I just supposed to walk around Brooklyn in just boots and a thong? (shutup, pervs) and third of all, ummm…NO.

Then later Buffalo Bill came over and was like I was just kidding about wanting to buy your dress but I just wanted to compliment you on it. He was trying to be nice but I think he was just sizing me up so he could imprison me in a well in his apartment and prance around in human skin with his poodle Precious.

Monday
I was craving chocolate so I walked all the way over to City Bakery. (By the way, why am I having all these chocolate cravings? Am I pregnant? By immaculate conception??? Do you think Planned Parenthood would take immaculate conception cases???)

I looked longingly at the parade of pastries. Muffins. Brownies. Cookies. I had to tell myself, “Behave, Jinius.”

I ordered one chocolate chip cookie. Just one. But it was the size of a planet. I walked outside and as I bit into it I literally moaned out loud. Mind you I was in the middle of a street in Manhattan and ALONE. But I didn’t care–I was in chocolate splendor.

I continued to moan from fifth avenue to sixth avenue.

Then I later met up with Sarah and Dave for happy hour at Petite Abeille. As you regular readers may know, happy hour with Dave is never just one hour. It somehow expands into an an entire evening with Dave acting like the devil on my shoulder and encouraging me to have one more drink. Or five.

Anyway, we ordered belgian frites with a blue cheese sauce which was also OFF THE MOTHA FUCKIN HOOK. Oh my god, people. Imagine melted blue cheese swimming in a sea of gravy. It’s kinda like poutine! Seriously. A major party was happening in my tummy.

I told Dave about the hot bartender I was stalking and he was like “When I was 23 I wish I had a 28 year old stalking me.” So, of course, that only encouraged me to continue my stalking and I lassoed Dave into stalking my hot bartender with me. Yeah, you know you have a good friend when he is willing to be your stalking wing man.

So we go to the bar. For the second time in one weekend. And my hot bartender isn’t even there. I should write a book called, “HOW TO STALK SOMEONE UNSUCCESSFULLY”.

We order burgers which I quickly eat in one bite. I’m serious. I didn’t even chew. And then the bartender who was there gave us free donuts. WARM! CREAMY! DONUTS!

So now I have a new crush.

I think I just fall for guys who feed me.