*blue balls not included.
I took Thursday off as result of coming down with some strange fever/cold/scratchy throat thing… but nothing says “I’m cured!” like the start of the weekend. Friday was the grand opening/VIP/Media party at View for the Skybar Rooftop unveil. Great view, albeit a chilly summer night to enjoy drunks drinks on the roof. The Bacardi set-up was horribly misplaced at top of the stairs and slow-going for drink ordering. Feh! Drinks were free — not much complaining coming from me. Music is always awesome at View, but wasn’t feeling the crowd on a Friday. I understand they can’t crank the tunes outside, but that would be awesome if dancing were encouraged under the stars. Only shitty part was “the list” — I am/was/supposed-to-be on the list. I get there.
I’m not. Seriously. For Mel, I was allowed entry on my personal recognizance. When the drink tickets were spent, it was time to enjoy another spot-we-normally-don’t-hang. Women’s bathroom: no paper towels and stalls without TP. Not cool for such a swanky image.
Sunset Lounge is an awesome bar. Love the crowd, love the decor, love the music, love the bacon at the bar. Sweet-ass DJ spinning a great mix of old school hip-hop and ghetto-fabulous music of today. Lounge with tables to sit and eat. Space in the back to get your groove on. I have to give props for perfection in attentive service. They’re broadcasting all the World Cup games for those of you soccer-obsessed. I hung around a group of guys all with the same name. Makes it easy on a drunk woman.
Bar Flyy… ok. I don’t remember much other than my face being attached to someone elses’ and dancing my ass off. Right. Because we all got class at 2 in the morning. Oh, and the fucking dirty ass bathrooms. Gross! It took me ten minutes of two-steppin to get all the toilet paper remnants off my shoes. Seriously, what is it with the bathrooms tonight?
So I ask you, ex-girlfriends of men I may or may not be sitting with at Panini’s: Why you all psycho? Godamnit I ate another sandwich/pizza combo again. Stop serving me! And I’ve completely given up asking for no fries and no slaw.
She keeps on passing me by…
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This blog is about pursuit: a transplanted Clevelander (me) in a new city (that's you, Pittsburgh!), pursuing the role of a self-employed copywriter, becoming a roller derby badass and somehow merging all my to-do items into one ever-growing Bucket List.
And of MY boyfriend. His blue balls started this mess.
