frenchin' at 205.

saturday night. sorta bday celebration for jm and myself. i invited my best-y but since it was in the city she was a no-go. i didn't bother to really invite anyone else. i mentioned it two friends who live near the city. they were both down. neither showed. this is how the night began. not a good sign.

that afternoon i get a text from a 'roe buddy asking if i'd be in that area that night. i inform him i would not but that he should come out to the city for my bday. he claims he would've had he had more than a few hours notice. i blame ken since had she wanted to come out i would've invited everyone but since she didn't i didn't bother inviting the boys. not only do i feel like i have no friends since no one came out but now mf's pissed at me for not having invited him sooner. let's add that to the list of things that went wrong.

got dinner at stand with jm and her bf and her friend and her friend's bf. despite the fact that i am almost constantly hanging out with ken and don and am almost always 3rd or 5th wheelin' it, i have never felt more like a 5th wheel than i did at that dinner.

we inexplicably drive around the city for about an hour. what we're even doing in a car in the city in the first place is beyond me. we head over to sweet and vicious where a former kkp-er is celebrating her bday. it's small and crowded. i say my hello's and leave to meet back up with jm, etc. at 205. i remember 205 from halloween when i made friends with a creepy old french guy to get in on his table service. i resolve not to make friends with any creepy old french guys tonight. i find jm, etc. and am informed that jm's bf saw an olsen when they got there. my night is picking up.

despite dancing and relatively enjoying hanging out at 205 with jm, etc. i'm still sorta cranky for no reason. then i meet random french guy. luckily not creepy or old and a good dancer even but still not exactly what i need to get out of my grumpisness. i pull the bathroom card and lose frenchie.

i bail on 205 and jm,etc. around 3:30am. i consider taking a cab to the path as it's 3:30am, 40 degrees out, i'm wearing heels, am alone, and in the lower east side (nowhere near the 9th street path station). so of course i decide to walk. i listen to a lot of third eye blind on my ipod as i walk and feel weirdly fine. i get to the path by 4am and am waiting in the crazy drunk crowd for a train. i'm wearing my headphones, am still kinda in a mood, and considering even when perfectly content i still look like i hate the world, i'm imagining that i'm not looking entirely inviting at the moment so i'm surprised when the guy standing across from me starts talking to me. he inquires if i'm a dancer. i inform him i am not. i think it's a lame line even coming from a stupid 4am drunk guy. then he asks if i'm in my pajamas. i think this is the worst line ever and then i realize that my jacket is longer than my dress and so it just looks like i'm wearing leggings and heels - not exactly sleep wear but i see where he was confused. the path shows up and we board and he's telling me that he's a writer who's been out of the country for the last 4 years, traveling and writing. some weird gypsy-looking chick sitting near us starts motioning towards us, winking and bowing her head. giving us her blessing or cursing us. i'm not sure which. she then passes out. writer guy continues to talk all the way to journal square. he gets off the train and says he'll call me. i do not remind him that he doesn't have my number.

it's 5am. i put my headphones back on. motorcycle drive-by comes on. fitting i think. i remember that my car is parked at the path. finally i'm out of my bad mood.