Day 6: My Phone-In
I didn’t write a blog entry last night because I was doing a little thing that you may call “sleeping”. Many thanks to my pals for buying me two Coronas on an empty stomach during the Upright Citizens Brigade/ASSSSSCAT show and then taking the party across the street to fancy pants Frisson, where I consumed two delicious blood orange margaritas and where I was so hungry I actually licked all the salt off of the glass, hungry for any kind of nourishment but deciding against paying 15 dollars for a “snack” at the bar. I enjoy Frisson a lot, even though it’s decidedly way more swank than I will ever be, but it’s just like Vegas - you’re there, so why not pay 12 dollars for a drink?
The last time I was there was early last year on a date, with a sweet but extremely awkward recent Stanford grad. We’d had an extended text message back & forth about our shared addiction to reality shows. He had a habit of coming up to the city once a week and going to fancy restaurants and he abruptly invited me to go to dinner with him via text at about 6:30pm. Even though I always follow The Rules, I know the value of a good meal and I didn’t want to spend yet another Friday drunkenly eating Indian food at 3 in the morning with the alcoholic crew I was running with at the time, I accepted, but not before getting drunk at a bar beforehand.
The date was fine, I’m no fool - I ordered an appetizer, an entree, dessert and like 3 Manhattans and when he put down his credit card and let the waiter take the check away without me even pretending like I was going to help pay (I am a modern woman, of course) I breathed a sigh of sweet relief. Having spent the majority of my dating life dating fools who are broke as fuck and spending most of the 3 years with the ex essentially supporting him, the sensation of not having to pay was an awesome one. I decided I needed to experience this again. Unfortunately, my dating pool is solely comprised of guys who will never make any money, ever. Maybe I’m the one that needs to change and expand my horizons to guys with you know, careers.
Anyway, we drove around for a bit, and then he dropped me off at home, with no sexual obligation in sight. That, too, was a relief. I hear about dudes who expect sex in exchange for expensive dinners and I wonder who they are and where the they get off thinking this is okay. Why not just get a hooker? Avoid the whole dinner fiasco, even.
I didn’t eat any of Frisson’s wonderful food last night, however. Last night was all about drinking my poor brain to sleep. Instead, I opted for a 4 dollar Celeste Pizza for One that I picked up at my local liqour store before going home.
I declared that pizza to be the best pizza I had ever eaten, at the time. I almost wrote an entire blog entry devoted to this pizza’s magical powers, but thankfully I decided to sleep on it, shut down the laptop and pass out. The pizza was magical though, as I woke up blissfully hangover free.
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