a week long bender ... and Manhattan updates

Now that my baby is in Memphis, I had one hell of a week. I inundated myself with outings, socializing, bars, dancing, drinking (too much drinking) and sleep overs. I became reacquainted with the world of "going out." Makes me wonder what the hell I've been doing for the past two months. I know what I've been doing... nesting with my baby, going to sleep at a decent hour, watching the Muppet Show, cooking, etc.

Some of my exploits include closing out a gay bar until 5am for Greg's birthday, closing out Employees Only then venturing to a shut down but then opened private little restaurant and bar until dawn with Jenni, an east village walkabout in search of the "perfect place" but settling for grungy 7b with Catie in her fur bear hat and a bunch of drunk NPR producers... and somewhere in between sleep overs with Mel and Dana that included ordering in, staying up late, and little pastries for breakfast. It's been fun, but I'm back on instant coffee again and feeling the effects of the long lost "hang over" on my everyday life.

Now I'm getting serious with gathering broll footage for "The Line" which will include gathering couples interacting, men / women flirting at bars, gestures and looks to use as visual proof for the film. I went on a scouting mission/pub crawl with my friend the lightweight Jacob last night. Our conculsion: McSorley's perfect light for filming, but ALL MEN DRINKING. Basically the weather is effecting the ladies? No one was out, every bar was all dudes and they weren't gay bars. I thought Saturday would be a nightmare, but Thursday was dead. So conclusion: Saturday in winter, Thursday other seasons.

Another realization being out with Jenni in Manhattan's most hi-falutin' places is that this town has become a rich man's tightly scripted snooze fest. Everyone is so concerned with fitting the "Sex and the City" script -- the right boots, the right sweater, the right shoes, the right iphone, the right blown out hair, that there is no orginality, no surprise, no humor, and really no fun in the matter. The word "fabulous" is tossed around exhasutively to really just mean "expensive" or "approved of by bitchy gay men or bitchy insecure women." I'm not going to get down on this great land, but I simply wonder, are other cities more fun? Because right now - the concrete isle, not including Brooklyn - makes me tense, tired and pissy.

I think it's a problem in the larger culture that there's no space for women to be, coined by my friend Mollie, "confused, fat and funny" too. We're stuck with Judd Apetow movies where the guys are frizzy, fat and funny - but the high school chicks are perfectly composed, incredibly cute and acting as avatars for these losers to reach enlightenment.

In some ways I'm pissed because I wore a damn cute outfit last night - including striped tights, and a hot wrap dress, and got no love from men or women. I got sized up and down, dismissed or challenged, and I'm just trying to have some fun.

Or maybe I'm just trying to film you being an asshole when drinking or trying to pick up the opposite sex...