Swankified

I gave in and re-wrote this entire post. I may have forgotten some crucial deets.

Last night I was at this:

Because Lisa met a head honcho at IMG on the Subway and sent her a formal invitation. So I headed to Macy's to buy a floor-length orange number, as if I even need an excuse to go shopping. As it was the hottest day of the year, we hopped in a cab hoping for some AC. No luck. Even cars know the heat is too much to consider battling. The sun has a championship belt that it won't ever give up.

We arrived. We were on the guest list. We made our way downstairs to find ourselves in an underground, exclusive ping pong club. The place was serious. A championship match was going on, and we were surrounded by champions/hopeful young businessmen/models/loaded old men. Considering I was evicted yesterday (tune in to next blogpost), I felt entitled to a few cosmos. STRONG cosmos.

Then I ate a vegan sandwich next to Judah Friedlander.

I had encounters with the following people:

- Three old men whose profession was "trading"

- A British man who bought me a tequila shot

- A very old man in green pants who seemed very influential and gave me his card:

- A modeling photographer who I vaguely remember speaking French to:

- A HOT HOT HOT woman in a leather dress who I saw hours before on Fifth Avenue. Dream girl.

- A model in the bathroom who complimented my dress

- A cameraman who interviewed me. I couldn't tell you what I said.

- A sick DJ who wants to come to the MIA show with me in a couple weeks

- A guy who was alternately dressed as a hot dog, a sumo wrestler, a chicken, and things I got too drunk to recognize:

Then we left to go to a rooftop party. I guess I decided not to go because I remember:

- Being alone in Manhattan wearing an evening gown

- Trying to buy a Subway pass with pennies, the only real money I brought with me. Also I left my unlimited pass on my bed.

- Taking a cab to a bar in Brooklyn

- Eating cheese puffs there

- Falling asleep there

...

I woke up this morning at a friend's place still wearing my dress, contacts and earrings intact. I then took my THIRD cab in a 24-hour period to make it home to change for work. As I hailed a taxi, I was sporting gold heels, basketball shorts and a JMU hoodie. Looking fly, if I do say so myself. I got back to the apartment to find gays and girls littered on the kitchen floor, sleeping like little young adult angels. I made it to work with alcohol in my veins, water in my hand, and two minutes to spare.