extreme temperatures
have Al Gore worried, but for 48 hours all the sun and shine this past weekend made me incredibly giddy: Spring! Hooray! T'was all but a milky dream, =sigh= and now I'm stuck in a concrete building. Yes, granted the sun still shines on, but alas i cannot squat myself in a park all day, drinking prosecco and consuming endless amounts of nibbly things nor bob and weave Has-sids on my fabulous new pink bike, heyyyyyy!
Friday night I ended up at an Art Fag Explosion in a part of brooklyn where most artists have loads of money from being successes,ie, DUMBO, rather than tons of money cause they are crack whores/Trustafarians, ie, Willimasburg. I spent most of the night either trying to avoid eye contact, making googly eyes, or just squinting cause I had forgotten my glasses. good times. we then got whisked away to the after-party-pre-party-this-is-the-secret-one, which no one knows about, yeah. not fun. sometimes where MOST people are is the actual fun.
Fortunately saturday proved to be high sun and most enjoyable romping in central park. it was a gay dude's birthday, whom I didnt know TOO well, but who welcomed every fag above 14th street to drink his vino and hold his puppies. i fell in love with my friends a thousands times over and ended basking in the light for far too long. i'm rosy, my alabaster skin ate it up.
sunday was devoted to biking, bike here, eat there, bike where? the Piers. for those out of the know, ie, not a homothug or chelsea queen this is a pier butting out into the hudson river where loads of manhattan gays lounge and suck on popsicles. we sat and just judged. too many faded jeans and heyyyyy girl-s.
Friday night I ended up at an Art Fag Explosion in a part of brooklyn where most artists have loads of money from being successes,ie, DUMBO, rather than tons of money cause they are crack whores/Trustafarians, ie, Willimasburg. I spent most of the night either trying to avoid eye contact, making googly eyes, or just squinting cause I had forgotten my glasses. good times. we then got whisked away to the after-party-pre-party-this-is-the-secret-one, which no one knows about, yeah. not fun. sometimes where MOST people are is the actual fun.
Fortunately saturday proved to be high sun and most enjoyable romping in central park. it was a gay dude's birthday, whom I didnt know TOO well, but who welcomed every fag above 14th street to drink his vino and hold his puppies. i fell in love with my friends a thousands times over and ended basking in the light for far too long. i'm rosy, my alabaster skin ate it up.
sunday was devoted to biking, bike here, eat there, bike where? the Piers. for those out of the know, ie, not a homothug or chelsea queen this is a pier butting out into the hudson river where loads of manhattan gays lounge and suck on popsicles. we sat and just judged. too many faded jeans and heyyyyy girl-s.