Drunk Woman

Yesterday I saw a woman stumbling around the metro platform. As it was 1:00 in the afternoon and hot as a beotch outside, I initially decided she was faint from the heat. I say initially, because upon closer inspection she was as drunk as a sorority girl in Kappa Sig. She was dressed in a hot pink unitard, or onesy as I like to call them, self-hemmed right below the vagina. What made her more interesting was that she was carrying around a clumsy bouquet of flowers obviously bought as an afterthought. She looked at them, looked at the train tracks, looked at the flowers again, and then threw them down at the feet of some unsuspecting plump young Jewess who has been watching the scene with as much interest as I. As the daisies hit the floor my new bff muttered some thing inaudible and then began to move. As she stammered past me I caught the all to familiar odor of Arbor Mist Raspberry Chardonnay.

Where was she coming from? An unsuccessful afternoon date? The local strip clubs down the street? I like to believe she has met her long lost crush for drinks with the hope of getting an afternoon quickie or dime bag of cocaine. What really happened I will never know. But I'm sure I'll find something just as interesting after work today!

New York Hotels!

I have now spent the better part of my day searching for a reasonable, non-rat infested, hotel in New York City. When did the standard price for a decent room rise to $400 a night? I either have to pay for a room that would make a black-light blush or pay $1000 for a weekend get-away. Granted, I have paid big bucks for NYC hotels - but those were times of wooing and an occasional up-scale blow job. This time, I just want to see the city in the fall. (And maybe buy a pretty scarf at Barney's.) Having no friends in NYC, I feel like an outcast. Everyone has someone to stay with apparently - everyone, that is, but me. People are shameful in their use of connections...my old, college boyfriend's sister has a studio near the UN that's great...fuck that. I don't like staying at my parent's house now, why would I want to stay with a crazy bitch that won't turn-down my sheets or place some toiletries in my bathroom.
The last time I stayed with someone in NYC I bought a Harry Potter t-shirt at shops in the World Trade Center. And well, that's not going to happen again. Thank god I have a job of no real importance. I will continue to search for that reasonable place where I can walk to see the sites and still get a comfortable nights sleep.
Is NYC the east coast Las Vegas?