Poor Hilary has seriously fucked up her foot, however. Or a mosquito did, we're not sure. It's all swollen and going a funny shade of purple and we really don't know what the hell's going on with it, but the benedryl is making her high at least.
Today is my birthday and I feel remarkably ambivalent. 29. I'm delighted that I got carded last night, although we were in the lamest of lame student bars, full of totally lame students. One guy kept trying to dance with me because he liked my dancing but the thing is, his dancing pretty much sucked ass. Still, he turned out to be very nice and was a refreshing 34 years old. What he was doing there, I can't remember, but he did admit that the place was awful. The next bar was much more our scene - kind of seedy and with karaoke and lots of drunks. The boys we met on the walk home were very tall and I am a big fan of the New Jersey accent.
Buying wine by the bottle in a bar is obviously not too common here. We got funny looks but our attitude was pretty much, shut up and give us the bottle. She's Irish and I'm a kiwi. A bottle of wine will barely even touch the sides.
Ooh, the concierge at the hotel is completely *gorgeous*. So, so pretty and cute and with the smile and the accent and the skin and the *smile* and, OMG, *yummy*. And he asked me out yesterday! Go me! This might be more exciting news if I hadn't got my period on Day 1 of the holiday, meaning sex is almost certainly out of the question (unless he's one of those lovely non-squeamish types), but as it is, I'm not sure how much we'd have in common, so a date with conversation? Whatever. *shrugs* Still, if Hilary's foot is keeping her inactive I may have to ditch her for a while and go and make out with him. (He said, "hey birthday girl," to me this morning and it made me go all giggly and pathetic. SO CUTE.)
EEP. Running out of time.
Signing out, from NYC.