$200 jeans and the rest of the city
Last weekend: Craig, Bob, Kristen and I all took the bus up to NYC to 1. See Kelso (AKA the most gorgeous boy I've ever touched) and 2. see the Telectroscope Exhibit / Murakami Exhibit (Brooklyn Museum of Art). All of these things were amazing.
We got in around 11 pm on Friday, Kelso picked us up in his Jeep, we drove through Times Square looking crazed and seriously in need of alcohol, we acquired said alcohol, and we finally wound up back at Kelso's place. I say "place" as though it doesn't cost $5000 a month, or that it isn't on the 21st floor overlooking the East River in a building with a Japanese coy pond for a lobby. We all got very, very drunk + stoned and proceeded to watch Burt Reynolds car-exploitation films the rest of the night.
Saturday, once we had a very confused delivery boy bring us Jack Daniels, Bombay Sapphire, and pancakes, Kels and I got jacked up together for the first time in years. We tore across the bridge (Bob, Craig, and Kristen in tow), went to the aforementioned exhibits, went to a really nice Japanese tea house, met up with Craig's cousin, went back to Kels' fuck-all-expensive apartment, and drank until everything was hysterical. At some point, Kelso convinced me (succeeding where others have failed) to try on a pair of DeHoghton jeans that he couldn't resist buying even though he's not obscenely tall or a 32-inch waist. Upon Kristen's approval (and remark on how it's probably the nicest thing I've ever worn), Kelso said "Keep them", which I was grateful for and okay with until I looked up the price. Next thing I remember is Kristen on top of me, naked and blushing, because Kelso had just walked in drunkenly searching for a lighter (by-and-large ignoring his fellow occupants).
Sunday was more pancakes, more liquor, and a bus ride back to Washington.
On that note, Craig and I found the most amazing townhouse on 5th, close to where it intersects with H. Two doors down there's a jazz bar, a block away is the grocery store, and 5 blocks west is Union Station. I couldn't ask for more.
We got in around 11 pm on Friday, Kelso picked us up in his Jeep, we drove through Times Square looking crazed and seriously in need of alcohol, we acquired said alcohol, and we finally wound up back at Kelso's place. I say "place" as though it doesn't cost $5000 a month, or that it isn't on the 21st floor overlooking the East River in a building with a Japanese coy pond for a lobby. We all got very, very drunk + stoned and proceeded to watch Burt Reynolds car-exploitation films the rest of the night.
Saturday, once we had a very confused delivery boy bring us Jack Daniels, Bombay Sapphire, and pancakes, Kels and I got jacked up together for the first time in years. We tore across the bridge (Bob, Craig, and Kristen in tow), went to the aforementioned exhibits, went to a really nice Japanese tea house, met up with Craig's cousin, went back to Kels' fuck-all-expensive apartment, and drank until everything was hysterical. At some point, Kelso convinced me (succeeding where others have failed) to try on a pair of DeHoghton jeans that he couldn't resist buying even though he's not obscenely tall or a 32-inch waist. Upon Kristen's approval (and remark on how it's probably the nicest thing I've ever worn), Kelso said "Keep them", which I was grateful for and okay with until I looked up the price. Next thing I remember is Kristen on top of me, naked and blushing, because Kelso had just walked in drunkenly searching for a lighter (by-and-large ignoring his fellow occupants).
Sunday was more pancakes, more liquor, and a bus ride back to Washington.
On that note, Craig and I found the most amazing townhouse on 5th, close to where it intersects with H. Two doors down there's a jazz bar, a block away is the grocery store, and 5 blocks west is Union Station. I couldn't ask for more.