Gone Fishin'!

...if only it were for MEN!


Actually, it's WAY way better.  I'm going to a lakehouse in Texas for the weekend with 10 of my college besties.  
Can't. Freakin. Wait.
And, since we've pre-declared it "Zero Makeup Weekend," there's a very good chance there will be no MANdates to be had for quite a few days.  But you'll survive. You're good like that.
Behold, the logo I designed for the KOOZIES that will be distributed for the weekend's use.  Klassy, no?

Back in a few days, y'all!

xoxo

Dating story #52, The Love Compartment.

But first, a weekend recap.

I had a ridiculous amount of plans for the weekend. Seriously, like double or triple booked for some days. Amazing how this city comes out of hibernation when it gets [remotely] warmer. However my nasal passages had other big plans for me, in the form of a massive sinus infection. Thanks!   Back-to-back bouts with tonsillitis and now a major mucous convention in my face?
Who's the luckiest?
THIS girl.
Friday night:
Plans with besties Ray and KK: cancelled. [mega sad face]
Saturday:
Although I awoke with my head feeling about as light as a cantaloupe, I had to rally.  It was my dear, longtime friend and former bandmate D-day's surprise 40th bday party AND "roast." Not to mention a reunion of sorts with one of my favoritest groups of friends that I rarely see these days due to relocation, and procreation.
Thus, I dragged my snotty self out of bed and to Hill Country BBQ, the scene of the crime. Crime, you ask? Well I was quite psyched for this roast, since this group of guys is amongst the smartest, wildy, insanely hilarious and utterly grotesque group a person could ever be blessed to know.  However I was surprised and concerned upon arrival to discover this party wasn't just friends but also family, including a few blue-haired beauty shop 'do's. 
Oh dear lord.
To say the boys "didn't hold back" would be the understatement of a lifetime. In fact, I even learned a few new words that day! At one point I looked over to see the bartender, an innocent bystander (not so innocent when all was said and done) literally had his hands covering his face in shock and awe. And laughter.
I couldn't even bring myself to look over at the "adults" table, for fear of what expressions their faces might be contorted into.
But apparently, no one is safe at a roast. 
And by "no one" I mostly mean ME.
That's right, in order to make the roastee feel better (or just because they had the opportunity), I got several jabs from SEVERAL roasters. Being the only girl in my former band and now, being newly single appears to lend itself quite nicely to ridicule. And since many of the guys happen to read this blog (unbeknownst to me), jabs like:
"Lindsey, has your vagina reached capacity yet?"
 "I think I saw it smoking a cigarette and hailing a cab to Laguardia." 
were some highlights. Still not quite sure what the last one means. Additionally: "Your rehearsal dinner lasted longer than your marriage." 
Yep, I felt sufficiently covered by the time I left there.
I set off in search of a) new friends  b) a nap.
I was roused from my sinus-induced sleep by my friend Jones who managed to haze me into attending the comedy/rap show I had promised to attend with him a month ago.  Note: 25 year old boys really do not care or even listen when you say "I'm really not feeling well." I agreed to go on the condition that I don't drink a drop of alcohol and I'm home by midnight.  He agreed and said he also was so hungover from Friday that he'd be right there with me. That it would be "like going to a movie, only more interesting."  However, turns out, all Jones needed was a little nap to be revived and back on the whiskey train! Sweet. Fun for me.  But, the show really was worth it.  Have you ever heard of Donald Glover?  He's an actor on Community and also a comedian and rapper who goes by the name of Childish Gambino. Let me tell you, this is possibly one of the most multi-faceted people I have ever witnessed.  Actor. Comedian. Rapper. Singer. And hot with a sick body to boot. And, he does all of it WELL. Seriously, homeboy is oozing with talent. You can download his rap/hip-hop at the link above for free. 

Hello, hotness

Hello, Joel

During the show, as I was jumping up in down with the crowd, as a sick person should, someone abruptly pushed past me, running into my shoulder. I almost got pissed off until I realized it was none other than Joel McHale, star of Community and host of The Soup, one of my faves,  supporting and filming his co-star with a shit-eating grin on his face. Pretty cool to see.  I love New York sometimes.  
After the show, I bid adieu to my non-sober friend and headed home, running into my neighbor-friend in a random part of the subway.  Again, New York. Not as big as you think it is.
Sunday:
So what I haven't told you yet is that I was working on healing the whole weekend so I could be in good shape Sunday night. Why? 
SoCal.
Yes, that's right. He's STILL in the picture. It's just a very fuzzy picture.
Actually, it's become pretty clear to me and, thus, is the inspiration for this post's title.  Since I initially started seeing SoCal [sporadically] since December, I've completely adjusted my expectations from the relationship and thus, have begun to enjoy it.  I just realized he needed to be put in a certain place in my life, a compartment, if you will. Hence, the Love Compartment. Ok, so I don't love SoCal, per se, but I like hanging out with him and it's a nice play off of glove compartment, so just go with it.  
And honestly, what's so wrong with it?  He's good-looking, smart, easy to talk to/hang with, and we have the music connection. I know now that this is not a guy I could ever end up with, but why not enjoy him when he's around and I've got nothing else going on?  Done and done.  
He popped up Friday [via text, obvi] to see if I wanted to see the CSS & Sleigh Bells show at Bowery Ballroom on Sunday night. And, I did! So we made plans and that was that.  Then, I spent the rest of the weekend taking a sinus-med cocktail and praying I'd be better by Sunday. When Sunday night rolled around, I felt halfway decent and ready to fake the other half, excited for some seemingly much-needed man attention.  Since SoCal was running late after back-to-back soccer games (as usual) we met up at the venue.  Standing at the bar he looked at me and said "It's good to see you! It's been awhile, huh?"  Um yeah, dum dum. Because you are so freakin' aloof, not to mention you forgot to take me to the Peter, Bjorn & John show (as promised), which I jokingly called him out on.  He, in all seriousness, was like "Why didn't you remind me?"  Umm...right.  If you don't follow up, I assume it's because you don't want to.  But I'm really gaining greater understanding of him and I think he's really just kind of out of it. The best part? I don't care! It's fun when it's fun, and that's awesome.  We had a great time at the concert, dancing together and he was being super flirty, which is always enjoyable.  In between the two bands, I volunteered to sift through the crowd and get us drinks while he held down the real estate.  As I turned behind me to survey the amount of crowd-weaving I'd have to do, BAM! There he was. Again. Good ol' ex bf Champ.
But I had to stare a second to make sure because he SHAVED HIS HEAD.  
And let me tell you, that was the opposite of a good idea.  I'm not quite sure what he had against his hair, but luckily it's not my job to care.  Especially since he was such an immature turd when I tried to make nicey-nice after our last run-in. 
So I used an alternate route and, fortunately, didn't see Champ again. SoCal came over after the show and hung out for a bit and even fell asleep for awhile, before heading home to his dog.  But it was so nice to be spooned, if only for a little while.  In fact, that's really all I need.  Spoon me to sleep and then get the hell out before I wake up in your sweaty arm-lock. A recipe for perfection.
And, he may even come stay out in Fire Island with me for one night during Memorial Day Weekend.  Fine with me!  I'm starting to like this little arrangement. Until the right guy comes along, everyone can just have their nice little cubby in the Love Compartment.  It's like my bizarre collection of Tupperware. Each holds something different, yet useful. 


And with that, I'd like to leave you with what I've been listening to on repeat this week. 
Y'welcome.

Dating story #51, 3 days of cray-cray.

Hello, dollies!  

And when I use that term of affection, I mean it only to be applied towards my nice, patient, non-unstable readers who forgive me if I don't post for a few days, of if I put up a "coming soon" post to let you know something is, well, coming soon. [the AUDACITY!]

Anyway, ain't nobody gonna steal my sunshine, so let's get on with the cray-cray, shall we?

Hopefully, you already read about my Thursday night in the "Singo de Mayo" post, since, due to Blogger weirdness lately (aka EPIC FAILURE!) that post seems to be GONE! WTF dudes?  I'm sad but there's no way I can repost the whole thing.  I will recap by saying I got "volunteered" to sing on stage with an amazing singer/songwriter, Ari Hest, during his performance at Hiro Ballroom.  It was a blast, even though there was no apparent love connection on his behalf, as my sister BH had envisioned for me. I think things like that really only happen in movies. And, in my mind.

What I failed (and somehow, forgot?) to include was where I went after that.  

My friend Kels had told me she was going to be attending a pool party. Yes, that's correct.  A pool party in a hotel, nonetheless.  These things are all pretty unheard of in NYC, not to mention we're still experiencing chilly spring nights here.  

So, after my high of singing with Ari and anti-climatic re-greeting him after the show in the bar mitzvah-esque receiving line, I needed a little more fun before the night was done.  Thinking to myself "am I actually doing this right now?" as I set out for the hotel at 12:30a, I even went so far as to take the subway there becuase apparently Cinco de Mayo is also Cinco de no Cab-o.  Eff.

Once my chariot brought me to Times Square, I proceeded to experience something I've never seen in my almost ELEVEN years in this city.  

I walked into the swanky Grace Hotel, upstairs to the thump of loud house music.  I opened a door as the noise and smell of chlorine and mayhem hit me all at once.  There it was: The Pool.  

Not huge, but not small.  And filled with about 50 units of Eurotrash and models galore, all jumping up and down to the pulse of the beat.  Not to mention beach balls flying every which way and waterguns engaged in duels left and right.  As I attempted to find Kels in this wet insanity, I tried to keep my balance, since I kept getting eye fatigue due to the overload of washboard abs.  I finally found her and she took me upstairs to her bag where she had brought another suit for me.  I should have been very over this whole scene, but something was so incredibly intriguing about it and the energy was so high, I knew I had to at least be a part of it for a few minutes.  

Kels proceeded to hand me a bikini that I can only describe as a bikini on top and a LOIN CLOTH on the bottom.  

I looked at her incredulously and yelled "WHY DO YOU OWN THIS???"  "NO ONE SHOULD OWN THIS!!!"  But alas, the loin cloth was all that stood between me and pool-o-rama.  Luckily it just barely covered my upper pubs and I decided I didn't care.  We jumped back into the pool, as the water immediately filled up my loin cloth, making it now much more reminiscent of a droopy diaper.  That aside, it was absolute crazamaniabanana-ness in that pool.  Seriously.  I have no regrets.  Well, maybe the loin cloth.  And, Kels trying to be a good friend by wiping my running black eye makeup off my face so hard I was almost positive I would look in the mirror and see no eye skin remaining. 

Needless to say, work on Friday was a bit rough.  But, the show must go on!

Friday night:

I had made plans earlier in the week with a Match dude.  I've been incredibly discerning with my people shopping lately and have new rules about the amount of banter, humor and predicted (REALISTIC) physical attraction I will have to the person before agreeing to meet.  It had just gotten too exhausting and not worth it. But this guy's profile was absolutely hilarballz and he looked pretty cute in his pics, so we decided to meet for drinks.  I was semi-curious if I'd hear from him since we made the plans much earlier in the week (and semi-hoping he'd flake since I was beeeeat) but lo and behold, he rang.  So, I rallied.  

Was he cool? 

Yes.

Was he cute?

Sure.

Was he smart/successful?

Yep yep.

Did we have fun?

Totally.

Did we accidentally get BOMBED?

Oopsie.

And that, ladies and germs, was it!  At about 1am we realized we were both totally tanked and needed to peace out STAT.  We got to a corner where I was going east and he was going west. So he just gave me a slightly awks hug and said "Sorry we got so drunk!"

The. End.

Haven't heard from him since.  And, I'm kinda okay with that.

Saturday night:

Even though I slept until 1pm, college-style (mostly just too disheartened by my current life to get out of bed), I still felt exhausted all day.  I contemplated not going out Saturday night, but my friend Mel hit me up.  She is a friend and co-worker from long ago in a similar boat to me-- divorced and having the time of her life like a wild-woman, ala me last July-November.  

She enticed me with dinner with friends, including TWO hot Germans, both over 6'3.  She had me by the balls.

So I went, knowing it would be fun no matter what and also great to catch up with Mel.

The two Germans, as promised, were both tall and good-looking.  I just didn't quite feel that "spark" with either, but it didn't matter.  I was still having fun.  

Everyone in the group wanted to go out for drinks after and, being the only NYC'er, I was nominated for tour guide, natch.  I had the brillz idea to bring them to Loreley, the German Beer place because a) it has a garden and it was a lovely night out and b) it's across from the street and a great way for me to causally peace out if my tiredness caught up with me. 

However, I realized I had gotten that German Beer place mixed up with another one nearby, and seeing as this one required us to all sit at one table and stare at each other, I decided it was time to hop to the other, so at least we could be more social.

And off we went, traipsing through the Lower East Side to the other bar. When we got there, however, we were informed it was a $20 cover for dudes since they were showing the big fight Saturday night.  Lame-sauce!  So we went across the street to another bar to have a drink and figure out our next move.  I assumed mine would be the ol' "bow out gracefully" maneuver, but Mel beat me to it! Apparently she got an offer too good to refuse and peaced out before I even knew what hit me. And, so did her girlfriend who was with her, leaving me and 3 Germans who only kinda know the city. Shiza!!

I know they had no expectations of me, but me and my damn guilty conscience felt like I had to at least hang with them for a bit longer. And suddenly, it hit me!

The fight.

El Señor.

He had texted me on tuesday night telling me he was having people over to watch this big fight Saturday night if I wanted to come.  I told him to hit me up on Saturday with the details. And of course, he didn't.

He's actually been blowing me up a bit lately. But I think he's just a) bored b) hoping to get some.  I really haven't indulged and most of the time, he barely gives me any notice and I have plans already. So, this was some advance notice here alright!

However, since he never got back to me with deets, I forgot.  Until, I needed to entertain some Germans (and myself). Plus, as luck would have it, El Señor lives right nearby on the LES. ¡Olé!

So I texted to see if it was cool, and off we went.  As we got there, the fight had  just ended and the party was dwindling, but still lively. Either way, at least I had something fun for my German-inherits to do.

I chatted with El Señor for a bit and instantly remembered why I do not like him, in any way, shape or form, other than as friends. And maybe not even as that so much.  If you want more info, just click on his link above so you can be reminded of stories such as the time I told him my stomach hurt and he told me "So jus poop."  He's also a very VERY big fan of himself.  Well, at least someone is.

I looked over and noticed one of my Germans sitting on the couch next to a very cute guy I had not yet spotted. So, I promptly went to join them. I was instantly intrigued by Blue Eyes, who I discovered, upon being quite nice to look at, was also a freelance copywriter, currently working at an agency across the street from me.  And of course, I'm always going to get along swimmingly with other copywriters.  In fact, it often becomes a battle of the wits. And I QUITE enjoy that!

So I schmoozed with Blue Eyes for a bit and the Germans split.  I considered doing the same, as did Blue Eyes, since his mom was coming in the next day for a Mother's Day brunch and he didn't want to be "sweating vodka" during that. But El Señor and crew were going to a club in the East Village and we all walked out together. On the street, I went to say goodbye to everyone and, somehow, got convinced to go for "one drink." But, since Blue Eyes was going as well, it was really not hard to convince me. However I was quasi-concerned about how to conduct myself in this situation, seeing as El Señor was there too, we have history, and I have no idea what his feelings or expectations are for me.  I also kind of didn't care.  And he didn't seem to either, as I hardly saw him as the rest of us hit the dance floor.  I wasn't sure if I was getting any heat from Blue Eyes, but sure enough, eventually he started dancing up on me. Woo woo! 

After awhile, the whole crew finally decided to leave [THANK GOD!] as it was probably after 3a at this point.  We were all hanging around in front and I was trying to get a read on El Señor to see if he was pissed, plus I also wanted him to leave so I could keep hanging with Blue Eyes!  Blue Eyes and I then decided to grab pizza next door and when we came out, everyone was gone. YAY! 

We shared a cab back to our 'hood (he lives a few blocks away), but somehow ended up at my apt for a night cap.  I played him a hilarious rap song that happens to use his semi-odd last name in it, and he was dying over it.  And we hung out on my couch for a bit until finally he looked at me:

HIM: "So, do you wanna make out or something?"  

ME: "Haha! Okay!"

And it wasn't bad at all!  A few mins later I informed him no one has ever asked me that question before.  'Cause, you know, they usually just DO it?!

Suddenly, the light outside the window began to change and we both looked at each other in horror that it was close to sunrise. Bedtime!

I told him he could slumber if he wanted, but that I was not giving it up. He seemed surprised, and I was EXTREMELY proud of myself for following through with my new plan. But we had fun smoochy, snuggly time and excellent spoon-age until about 10am when he SHOT out of bed, threw his clothes on, quickly kissed me goodbye and literally RAN out of the door.

Um....huh??

I chalked it up to the Mother's Day brunch, which he had seemed very concerned with, but still. Weird? Plus, no exchange of information!

So I figured I'd wait a few days and then maybe find him on facebook to send him the funny song (as he'd requested the night before).  But of course, I was hoping he'd find me first.  

Then I started to worry maybe he was having issues with the overlap with El Señor?  Maybe this was a bro-code violation?

Monday afternoon at work, after several false alarms of Facebook notifications that were NOT from Blue Eyes, I went out for some Starbucks to jolt myself awake for the rest of the night. And then, BAM! Ran right into Blue Eyes!

Thank goodness I looked semi-cute.  But I was so caught off-guard and he was with a girl, probably a co-worker, but still.  Didn't really lend itself to the stop-and-chat situation. We hugged [awkwardly] and I, acting pretty aloof if I do say so myself, went to walk off when he yelled:

HIM: "Hey! You gotta send me that song!"

ME: "And...how would I do that?"

HIM: "Girl, you know how to work facebook."

ME: EYEBROW RAISE.

HIM: "Fine, I'll find you."

So I smiled and walked off, feeling kind of good about that.  I then went into the drugstore to get an Rx.  4 mins later, BAM! There he was again. Damn this stupid small work neighborhood!!

So I told him to please stop stalking me.  Then, we made idle chit chat and, flustered and floundering for something to say, I finally just said "Fine, just give me your email and i'll send it to you." AHH. Whyyyyy did I do that?  Oh I know. Because I'm a dumbass.

He obliged.

I then decided to use this as an opp to send a coy and funny email to him.

"Behold, your new theme song. Not to mention an excellent ploy to get me to contact you. Well-played."  I then asked him a funny question in ref to something we spoke about saturday night.

His response?

"The whole 18th floor is dancing over here. Merci."

Shut.

Down.

I sent him back a funny one-liner. 

Nothin' back. 

Nothin' since.

Guess that's done. And fine, if that's how you roll, lame-o, then I don't wanna roll witcha. But still....WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?

When did I become "One-night-only-Lindsey?"

Maybe I should just start advertising myself as such.

Hey, you gotta have a gimmick, right....?

Singo De Mayo!

Holy schmoly, apparently some of you people do NOT at all like the "coming soon" teaser posts!


Listen, neither do I people!  However, they are not meant to drive you [or me] slowly insane.  I just happen to have this annoying thing called a JOB (actually, I have TWO of them) and it's been crazy busy lately.  
And, since I refuse to put up a hastily-written, piece-o-shite post, that's what you get.  
I still have some great weekend stories and I will put them up later tonight, but here's a little hors d'ouerve for y'all.


Last thursday night, Cinco de Mayo, I went to see a concert at Hiro Ballroom by Ari Hest.  
My sister BH first told me about the singer-songwriter with a smokey voice awhile back.  She also informed me that he's 6'6 and JEWISH, not to mention wickedly talented.  Even funnier is BH is NOT at all a gooey, girlie-girl, yet she texted me "Isn't he dreamy?"  Ha! And the answer is a definite YES to that one. 
Anyhoo, she told me that he was coming to play that NYC show and that he always calls for a girl from the audience to come up and sing the duet "Cranberry Lake" with him. She decided that I should be that girl, sing the song and have him fall madly in love with me {even though she would have to deal with her jealousy.}
Half the plan worked!  I made a friend in the audience who literally SHOVED my ass to the front when he called for volunteers, earning me my spot onstage.  He did, however, seem very pleasantly surprised that a) I knew all the lyrics and b) I wasn't tone deaf.  And....that's about where it ended.  As far as a love connection went, I may as well have been a dude.  Oh well. Nice idea, BH. It was worth a shot!
Here's some pics courtesy of Sam at unratednyc.com 

More to come, you crazy kids....

COMING SOON!

En route to this page:


Dating story #51, 3 days o' cray cray.


Seriously, y'all.  SERENITY NOW!


Off to sleep but there should be a doozie up here at some point (I hope!) tamale.


ps- are there such things as "blogging elves?" Please advise.


xo

BeautyFull Wednesday: Some life-shaving advice.

Oh, who doesn't love a good pun on a gloomy day!


But let's pretend it's a beautiful spring day, like it's supposed to be. 
Hemlines are going up.
Legs are coming out.
And hair is going away. 
Or, at least it should be!


I have pretty much HATED, LOATHED, ABHORRED shaving from the time I started in my tweenage years.  
It's tedious.
Time-consuming.
I always ALWAYS cut myself.  
And all that for something that lasts, like, ONE day?


Luckily, I have blonde hair and can get away [aesthetically] without shaving for a few days.  Tactically speaking, however, is a whole other story.  I'm pretty sure my ex-hubs had moments during our 8 years together where he questioned whether he was in a relationship with an aboriginal or bush-woman.  Especially in the winter months.  My bad!
Then, a few years ago, I found my "shaving grace." [ahh they just keep coming!]
I had seen commercials and thought it was kind of stupid, so I really have no idea how I ended up trying it.

Behold: The Schick Intuition

Two words:  

Life. Changing.

The why's & how's:

Why: It takes almost ZERO time to shave, no messing with a separate shaving cream, etc.  

Plus, I almost NEVER cut myself with this thing, which I find to be an amazing selling point.  

How: Use it like a normal razor [duh] but the trick is, that the razor (blade/soapy part) AND your leg both need to be wet and stay wet. My brilliant discovery is just to stick your leg in the water and leave it there. So yes, just shave under a constant stream of water.

You will be done in like 60 seconds and have smooth, silky legs.  Finish, of course, with my other fave shower buddy Johnson's Baby Oil Gel. If you don't have to resist the urge to occasionally caress your own legs after this, you did something wrong! 

Of course, there's a few cons with this product. Actually, just one: The blade/soap-in-one thingies.  They don't last for very many usages and aren't super duper cheap, in terms of normal razor blades.  

Whatever.

If you hate shaving like I do, it's ONE SCHMILLION PERCENT WORTH IT!

Available {here} or any drugstore, anywhere.

What's up in man-land?

I'm already too bored with Sunday's stories to even relay them. [you're welcome].

In other news, the night I went to see LCD Soundsystem with SoCal, we chatted excitedly about all the other upcoming shows we had tix for.  I told him he could come to the CAKE show with me last month (he ended up having to play a soccer game instead, and I'm glad because I went with bffs Noda & Tons and couldn't have had more fun. EVER.)  

He told me he had tix to TWO consecutive Peter, Bjorn & John shows in May and then invited me to the one at Bowery Ballroom on May 2 (aka this past Monday). 

Okay, so we hadn't spoken about it again since then, but still. Is he completely wet on the brain? 

Sure enough, at about 12a Monday night, there was dum-dum's post on FB from the show. At Bowery Ballroom. Spitting distance from my apt.  

What. An. A-hole.

It's a good thing I no longer am trying to convince myself I like or care about him, but I now need to stop trying to UNDERSTAND him. As in, "Why did SoCal send me a random "Happy Friday!" text last Friday? 

What is the point of ANY of this? 

I finally got smart and at least blocked his status updates from appearing in my newsfeed.  I also came to the realization that it's not that I even like the guy, but it's that he likes to do a lot of the things I love to do, and I just simply HATE not being thought of or included in stuff.  I'm still that kid standing out on the playground, fighting back tears for being left out of four square!

The other real truth is that I am just BORED.

BORED.

BORED.

BORED.

I just need to get through the next 2 weeks and I have a very good feeling things will change for me. Until then, I will continue to feel like this message that strangely appeared overnight on the gate of one of the places next to my apt on the Bowery.

Mega sigh....

Dating story #50, Attack of the Cling-ons.

Hellooo blogland!


So sorry for the crazy lag-times lately between posting, but I'm still recovering from the damage my job did to me the last few weeks.  I actually took Thursday and Friday off and stayed in bed for a majority of BOTH! And wouldn't you rather read one, epically long-ass post every few days anyway? {please pretend, thank you.}
Of course, I had to go out Wednesday night to celebrate my fab friend Tata's bday [since I'd help plan it]. Besides, it was an after-work sitch and I figured a few beers and then off to snoozeville I'd be.  How silly of me!
It was a lovely, legs-out kind of night and, even though it began to get a wee bit nip-ly, we all carried on in the garden area of my good ol' LES standby, The Sixth Ward. And, there was even some cute fresh meat there [score!], in the form of some dude editors from an edit facility that just so happens to throw GREAT industry parties. [double score!] 
In fact, said editor-dudes even convinced me to embark on a journey known as "The Beer Tower" with them.

And so the adventure began. As did my convo with editor-dude we'll refer to as Walken. Why Walken, you're wondering?  Well, homeboy had an interesting Christopher Walken-like cadence to his style of talking and when I called him out on it, he launched into one of the best impersonations I've heard to date. So there! 
So Walken and I proceeded to chat it up for quite awhile and he seemed pretty in. Especially when we exchanged numbers as we talked about movies and he said he would like to take me to one. Well, alrighty!  
Then, the night took an interesting turn. And by "interesting," I mean "karaoke."  And by "karaoke," I mean a roomfull of drunky-drunk boys ordering shots and ordering ME to keep singing. Yeah, yeah, I like to sing. I sing in a band.  However, I LOATHE karaoke. I can't explain it, but it's too much pressure, you never know if the key will work out, people expect you to be amazing but really, everyone likes it WAY better when people suck and are hilarious at it. Wah waah.  
Finally, everyone seemed to have stumbled out of that bar leaving Walken and I there to finish our drinks.  So, we sat at the bar and kicked it for a little longer. He begged me [seriously- BEGGED] me to sing another song, so I obliged. I decided to keep it klassy with a little Divinyls "I touch myself." Hey, when it's 2am and someone is making you sing, go with what you know.
He. LOVED. It.
As in hard-smooched-me-on-the-mouth after I was done. Aight!
We then realized we were in a state of severe starvation and set out for pizza. But the florescent lighting in the pizza place was NOT doing anything flattering for me at that point in the night, so I decided it was better to eat it at my apt since I only live 5 mins away.  
And, we were having a great time.  After all those weeks being locked in work-land, I needed some FUN! Not to mention, a boy lavishing attention all over me. C'mon- you know you love that too.
So we ate pizza at my casa and smooched a bit more.  You'll be elated to know that I did kick him out around 3am-- yay for me!  He told me he wanted to take me out on a "proper date" (huh? what's that again?), and I mentioned that I had an extra ticket for a concert Friday night, so it was a plan.
He texted AND later called me to arrange.  We met for dinner at the über popular Spotted Pig and it was all good. Although at dinner, I started to question just how attracted I was to Walken, now that I was only one beer in, as opposed to half a tower. But I decided to just relax and have fun, and we did.  The show was great and he was a great and very chivalrous date.
Afterwards, we went for a drink at the Cave [aka wine cellar at Peasant] and of course, ran into perpetual cave dwellers Sexy Sue, P, and Kell out for Kell's quasi-bach party!
I was not quite counting on running into people whilst on my 1.5 date with a dude, but whatever. These are good friends and they don't judge.  And Walken didn't make that big of an ass out of himself. Oh...
Anyway, it seemed time to get out of their hair (plus I was worried about what else loose-lips may say at that juncture), so I suggested we have a night cap at my apt, since it's about 30 yards away.  It was now well after 3am and I just wanted to collapse, so off to slumber party-land we went.  It was all fine 'cept Walken is SUPER affectionate and cuddly to the point I almost yelled at him "Back the F up, dude, you're infringing on my real estate here!"  But I refrained.
Ironically, I found out that he's only 2 months out of a break-up. AND, Peru is only 6 mos out of a major break-up.  No wonder they're total CLING-ONS! They're all scared and needy and rebound-y. Yeeeech. No bueno. 
I found myself looking for the exit. Too bad I was in my own apartment.  
Which meant brunch! Weee! (Ugh.)
Honestly, it was all fine.  He couldn't be nicer.  I can just tell how much he likes me [mostly because he said "Lindsey, I really like you." And kinda expected me to say it back.]  Let's just say I could not wait to get outta there.  Plus, I had major prepping to do, as BFWB and I had last-minute committed to playing a short acoustic set at this very interesting Art Salon party that night.
The scene:  Artists, musicians, poets, and a smattering of schmillionaires (namely the owner of the SICK apartment the party was at).
Free-flowing wine all night. Cocktail attire. Roof deck. Grand piano in an NYC apt. You really don't see that every day. 
Or, ever.
Walken knew we were playing this event and tried his hardest to get an invite. I thwarted this with all my might, citing "nerves" and that I'd rather him see a full show.  
Neither being true, of course.
Party clothes were donned. Here's an awesomely blurry pic BFWB took of me in my vintage 80's dress I've been dying to bust out.  I was definitely having some kind of Sharon Stone moment.  Sorry for the blurricane, I will post better pics if 

I ever find them.  Anyway, obvi I hoped for some nice man-candy to be at the party, but no such luck. Mostly chicks, weirdos and couples.  There was, however, ONE totally hottie-pants violin player, with a very Gyllenhaal quality.  So I went directly up to talk to him.  BOOM. Queer as the day is long.  But FIERCE.  So, no love connection, except for in the fag-hag type of way. Seriously, he is one of my fave new people!


How did our performance go? In the words of BFWB, he and I "murdered it." Phew.  It was amazingly nerve-wracking to be in such a small, intimate setting with talent like I've never seen surrounding us. And, we were LAST in the line-up.  But it felt great to be done and to finally be able to start downing some of that wine! [sidebar: I never/rarely drink before I sing. Waiting 3 hours during an open bar party? BRUTAL]
Our friends who attended were too tired/bombed to go out but BFWB and I were in rare form. My night had really only just begun and he didn't want our "fancy attire" to go to waste, so we headed out to the LES. 
Now, we have a really big problem when we go out. Everyone just naturally assumes we're a couple. We're both extremely tall and apparently seem like a physical match, so yeah. 
Cockus. Blockus. Maximus.
And the being dressed up thing did NOT help.  But we ended up at a total dive bar across the street from 'inoteca.  BFWB is the ultimate wingman, always doing PR for me and trying to befriend/help pick up cute guys! We found one that seemed to fit the bill standing outside the bar having a smoke.  We made friends and he hung out with us for a bit inside. Meanwhile, my friend S who works at 'inoteca came over to say hi before she headed home. We continued to hang out with the dude from outside--he was AA, knew tons about music, and seemed like an overall good catch. Until...he took off his cool leather jacket. I then leaned over and whispered to S "It's all well and good until your shirt has zero sleeves."
At that precise moment B looked at me and said "Sorry, hon."
I almost busted my spleen trying to invert my laughter.
Then, it got even better. Who walked into the bar?
Teca!
It was actually so great to see him and he gave me a huge hug.  I was extra thankful for my Sharon Stone outfit at that moment.  Never want to see an ex looking like vagabond!
Turns out, S had run into him at 'inoteca (where he no longer works, but apparently still hangs out) and told him she was going across the street to say hi to me. So he came too!  I think that was cool of him.  After all, we had quite a good run last summer, and even though it all ended abruptly in what felt like a fiery inferno at the time, we were actually FRIENDS and it was really nice to reconnect.  Especially because it's been on the verge of happening lately. And, because he now happens to live with Hairy Pits Girlfriend in the LES, so I'm sure we'll be seeing each other from time to time.
So he hung out with BFWB and me [we shunned Sleeveless Shirt guy and gave Teca his chair] and had several drinks while catching up, chatting a mile a minute.  And, when a crazy drunk weirdo kept groping and/or petting my sleeves, Teca totally stepped up and defended my honor, telling the guy to get outta there and, when he didn't, he got the bouncer to remove him!
Oh dear god, PLEASE. STOP. GETTING. EVEN. HOTTER!
Aside from Boulder-douche, Teca really may be one of the most gorgeous men I've ever seen and definitely that I've ever dated. 
And, Teca, BFWB and I proceeded to stay out 'till 4:30am, when we finally ended our night eating giant Cuban sandwiches while sitting on scaffolding and watching garbage being collected.  I heart NYC!
We all said our good-byes and Teca complimented me on how good I looked [ah! stop! serious restraint from JUMPING on and affixing myself to his back with a death grip]. And, he insisted that I take a cab even though I don't live that far away. All just reaffirming what I knew all along-- he really IS a super nice, caring guy who just happened to make a SUPER dumb mistake last August.  Ah well. 
I'll continue being clean and well-shaven.  
He can continue co-habitating with those that don't value that.


What a banana-ballz night!  
But I went home with a smile on my face.  Until I had to wash the makeup off it at 5am.  Can someone please remind me again WHY I don't have staff to take care of that?  


As for Walken: He texted me tonight, a super-sweet one too. 
Shit. I was really hoping he'd forget he liked me. 
I'll have to figure out how to let this one down nicely. Thoughts?


As for Peru: Was supposed to go out with him last night, but had to cancel since band rehearsal got moved.  Am also hoping HE forgets he likes me and/or wants to see me again. I really can't handle any more Hungry Hungry Hippos action.
Shit on a stick.


I also have some Sunday-Funday stories for y'all but this is far too long and my eyeballs are all burn-y anyway. 
Mad luv to ya's!