Last night was – in the words of Michael Scott of Dunder Mifflin – bittersweet. I hate bittersweet.
The night started out sweet when roommate L cooked the most dericious dinner ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!! chicken doused in red wine, fettuccine with shrimp, olives, mushrooms and truffle oil SSSSSOOOOOOOOOOO DERICIOUSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!! Now I’m good to go for a week without eating (though there are leftovers for tonight, yes!).
Then the night turned bitter. Was going to go to this charity thing, but got word that the party was dying down. And I absolutely hate charities for obvious reasons (that being, if I don’t even have enough money to feed myself, why would I give money to organizations I don’t give a shit about).
Then, I went to the Ivy League Football Association afterparty at Bull and Bear, which I was so excited about because I hadn’t juiced in exactly one week. (Stomach was stuffed at this point but more important thing was not.) Went there so excited like a kid walking into Dylan’s Candy Bar, only to find very few of the Kong football type and very many of the old grandparent type. I wanted to cry. It was so upsetting. The only good part to this night was when W graciously gave me a sip of her $18.50 dirty martini, and M generously gave me half of her $18.50 vodka soda because she was already wasted and a lightweight. Why a dirty martini and a vodka soda were the same price, none of us know. Needless to say, we only left a $1.50 tip on those drinks because by that point, all of us had become poverexic.
6:25 pm
I am so incredibly bloated. I wasn’t kidding when I said L’s dinner would keep me full for a week. I was bloated all morning, then I had my usual cup of coffee, then scored 4 cups of white cheddar popcorn from a meeting and some pringles, then had half of a leftover veggie sandwich that I found on the cafe table (not so great), then had 2 additional cups of coffee. The greatest thing is, I’m so bloated that I’m not even hungry for dinner. Yes!
Poverexic in NYC 