Don't be mad but I had more fun than you last night

I had serious hangover starvation this morning, I thought I was gonna pass out on the subway, which decided it needed to stop for half an hour because someone got sick at 68th St.

I'm sorry but if you're not feeling great and it's 80 degrees outside, be smart enough to keep yourself hydrated. And if you're the MTA, if someone gets sick on the train, push 'em out and move on. If they barfed, well... fine, but that doesn't take half an hour. Whatever, I'm over it. Maybe it was a heart attack or something. I can see how that would be a time sucker and hard to predict.

Anyway, I went out with Kevin last night, and we had happy hour at Gym Bar where we ran into this tiny little friend of his who was Italian and really tan and had a hat with his name on it and one of those narrow thin beards that just traces the jawline. Is there a name for those? Anyway, his name is Anthill or something and he's the type of guy who knows DJ's and goes to parties and stuff. That type usually doesn't mix with the type who can be perfectly happy spending an entire weekend with his Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs, but for some reason I totally fell in love with this kid, and I realized it's because he's got this friendly inclusiveness that makes me feel really good about myself.

Too bad Kevin LEFT ME and then when I finished my drink I felt too uncool to go say goodbye to Anthill so I snuck out. Social outcast alert!

I also ran into this guy I met two years ago and never talk to, but who is very thin. We said "Call me, we should hang out!" which is the same conversation we had a year ago around this time.

Oh, and I met a kid from Afghanistan who looks like he's from Iowa. He was also very small and thin. I wanted to ask how to say "I'm a big fat cow" in Farsi, but having also spent a large portion of his childhood in India, I was afraid he would think I was being arrogant.

The End

I've had a vision. A vision of destruction and mayhem. Of mass insanity and hysteria dissolving the fabric of our society. Language becomes meaningless, hoardes of people throw themselves at each other in unrestrained fits of carnal rage and desire. The id rules and drives the world to an imploding apocalypse out of which no man can claw. I have seen it. I have lived it. Happy Hour will be the end of us all.

It's not so much Happy Hour that's the problem, it's that it usually seems to become Happy Nine Hours. Two for one margaritas and a slice of pizza suddenly gets appended with a trip to three other bars, 10 beers, some free sample of a most repugnant unpalatableness, and something red a nice boy from L.A. buys for you. Suddenly it's 2:30 a.m. and you're walking down Christopher St. with a charming Jewish lawyer wondering "What the hell am I going to wear to work in the morning?"

Always the knowledge-seeker, I learned some important things last night:

1. Just because it's free doesn't mean you should take it, be it an alcoholic beverage or the AM New York.
2. Vodka is not kosher for Passover, but apparently the wandering Jews had gin and beer because those are okay.
3. Laundry will not do itself while you are at the bar. It's rather sad really.
4. Everyone in New York City is a Jewish lawyer. Everyone.

Oh, and I'd like to tell you about a most charming man I met early in the evening. Stuart went to the restroom and immediately I was accosted by this stranger. He was clearly attractive in his youth, but smoking and the tragic neglect to moisturize has stripped him of his frail beauty. Nice bone structure, unhealthy complexion. Cute shirt. Anyway, he came up to me and said, in the way of a greeting, "Wow, you look like a 10-year-old!"
"I.... what?"
"You're adorable, you look like you're 10."
I raised my eyebrows. "You like 10-year-olds?"
"No, well. I'm just saying you're cute."
"Ah. Indeed."

This was perhaps not the most gracious way to accept his compliment(?) but it's what came out. It was followed by a silence so awkward it made my neck stiff. Luckily, he was bold enough to continue the conversation. It was brief small talk, unimportant, and it fizzled quickly, at which point he said "God, I could just rape you right now."
"Excuse me!?!"
"Oh, I just said--"
"I heard what you said. And I look like I'm 10. Wow. That's really not the way -- don't touch me -- to win me over. Please leave."

He didn't get it, but Stuart came back. What the hell? Is everybody on this earth very very stupid? I'm pretty sure this man is not a pedophile sex offender, so why would he want to be perceived as such? Fine, so maybe he didn't make the connection. But "I could just rape you right now"? That's not a come-on, that's a threat! Whatever happened to a good "Are your legs tired?" or "Nice pants, but they'd look better on my bedroom floor"? Romance is truly dead.