Rest of the weekend...

I walked around the city for a couple of hours on Saturday. It was so beautiful out. A bit hot in the sun, but the shady side of the street was perfect. I took some pictures of churches and hit up two more taco places, the El Idolo cart on 14th Street and 8th Ave and a Mexican deli right next to Bacon's apartment. Both were okay. The El Idolo beef wasn't as tender as I like, but it had a nice salt and peppery taste. I'm not a big fan of chicken tacos and I made the mistake of getting one at the deli. It smelled delicious, tasted meh. At this point I may need a taco break, although I'm told I should get the barbacoa at Chipotle.

The day continued with a plethora of drinking. And fine drinking at that: year old PBR, Modelo, and MiHiLi. I am so classy. Stevie and I went to my favorite old man bar to play some pool. We stayed out until 5am. Or I did, Stevie stayed out even longer! I love late night outs, but I'm like a vampire. I'm scared to see the sunrise because I'll probably implode.

I made out with another guy, too. I finally realized I have no problems meeting dudes. I talk to everyone! This one is really nice. He asked me to hang out on Friday, so I'm going to meet up with him for a bit before I head down to the usual pub. I like the idea of keeping it short and sweet on our first date because I'm not sure what I think of him. Twelve hours of drinking can do that. He might just be my old man bar boyfriend, not my boyfriend-boyfriend. We shall see. Of course he has the same name as Tat and Donovan. Yes, it's a very common name but sheesh!

Yesterday was a glorious day of football (Giants won! WOOT!), ribs, couching, and diarrhea. My ass was vomiting. The alcoholic that I am refuses to blame the beer, instead I blame the Frank's Red Hot Sauce I poured into my Modelos. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I stopped eating hot sauce almost a year ago now!! DUMB GIRL.

I had the strangest dreams last night. In one dream I went to an open call at a modelling agency. The head recruiter was this really thin brunette with a ton of make-up caked on her but-her-face. She took one look at me and asked her assistant for something. The assistant handed her plastic calipers and she proceeded to grab and examine my upper armfat like it was a new species. Then she told me to drop my pants and I cringed, knowing that the size of my thighs (blog!) would freak her out. It did. She asked, "I'm surprised you don't care to be thin." I responded, "I want to be thin, but I'm afraid." Stuff happened and then I was in a big fight with all of the models and recruiters telling them they are all mean, heartless, vain, evil people, that I may be fat but at least I'm awesome. Then I stabbed the head recruiter in the back with a plastic knife. It didn't go through her, but I wanted it to.

In the next dream I was at another open call to play on a pro baseball team. There was a huge line of people waiting to try out and I couldn't remember if I had cut the line or not. Then the manager asked us what is the role of a coach and I said "to know the strengths and weaknesses of each player" and "to call the plays" or something like that. I was quite proud of my answers. Oh and there was only one other girl trying out and I hoped she wasn't as good a player as I am.

I feel like there was more, but I can't remember now...

I write "but" way too much. Conjunction Junction, what's your function?

Hell yeah Sundays: