I was at a party last night where practically everyone was better-dressed than me! It doesn't happen often. It was at the Pink Pony - I was surprised that this place was still open. And one of the guests at the party helps run the website where I bought the shirt I was wearing, even. It was a birthday party for the fashion designer friend of a friend, named Anthony. He was fabulous in a black sheath with some sort of polka dotted, ruffled pull-on - I want to get to know him better, and blog about his outfits. Plus, maybe he will teach me the correct fashion word for "pull-on."
I waited until everyone seemed to have arrived at the party, and then I dramatically left. I was walking towards the Bowery when a very handsome bum accosted me and called me "sexy." I was immediately drawn in to what he was saying, since it's been at least 9 years since anyone's called me sexy. (Although, in my youth, I was considered quite the great beauty - like Sophia Loren if she was a little uglier). Anyway, I noticed that the bum was carrying a huge bottle of liquor, and I realized that I should take his "sexy" comment with a grain of salt. He seemed to want a cigarette, and to touch me. I asked him to settle for just a cigarette. That's when he described an evening that he had in mind for the two of us to share together - complete with cocaine, a "bowl," and some E. Foolish, unbelievably handsome bum! It's the me of two weeks from now who has the cocaine. The me of last night just had Boniva.
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