It's been shaping up into a pretty weird week, regardless. In any case, it's a "school night" and after work, I hop on a train and head to the city. I have an hour or so to kill before my CS dinner in the Sunset, so I decide to hit up Borders for the 30% coupon I've been carrying around, and possibly a $3 margarita at that bar on the way to Borders. Fast forward and hour and I'm done with my margarita, I've bought touristy postcards of the city I live in to send to friends, I've flirted with both bartenders, and I'm losing track of time, and also wondering why I'm so fucking hungry.
Then I realize I'm supposed to be in the Sunset 10 minutes ago.
I hop on another train out to the Sunset, and I'm fashionably late. Emmanuel, the host, even stands up to give me a hug when I arrive.
Fast forward another hour. Two and a half glasses of wine later, I'm having a goooood time, celebrating another week after my official birthday, thinkin' 25 is a danm good year, and get into this confrontation with this CS girl who thinks we're obligated to offer her a couch. I straight up tell her I'm getting up at 5am and I have a roommate, and she's like NO WAY, and then has the nerve to tell me to FUCK OFF, to which case, i say FUCK OFF TO YOU! and that becomes a huge argument about "how come you didn't plan, how come YOU didnt offer me a couch" etc. bitch bitch -cough- she sucks, COUGH.
And then I leave.
I'm waiting for train #3 tonight and I find someone's number in my coat pocket. I'm thinking, who was cute tonight? Well, I was surrounded by cute (possibly/probably/most likely gay) guys tonight, and they weren't ugly! And I did meet a Ben tonight... and... he lives in NYC? And is writing his number on a NYC taxicab reciept from October 2007? What guy would keep that around by coincidence? Am I going crazy? Am I that attractive? ...or do I just not wear this jacket that often?
The horrible truth comes crashing down on me like the glass ceiling when I come off my high and realize... talking to my girlfriend back in Btown, back on earth, that it's probably a cabbie's number that my dad took down for me when he wanted to make sure i got back to the hotel ok after my cousin's bar mitzvah when i went out with some people after, and he made me take down a cabbie's number, who's voicemailbox, also, so coincidentally was full and not accepting new messages.
Well, thank god for small favors and these sorts of realizations, since I did in fact call that cursed number just now, and the voicemailbox was indeed, full.
So much for booty calling "Ben from NYC" tonight :///
And an unhappy birthday to me...
