Wow, summer is almost over and we haven’t posted anything worth reading. Or anything at all. I won’t blame it on the busyness of summertime or even my own laziness. I’ll blame it on my lack of inspiration. KandyAss and I were apart all summer. She is my blogging muse. The wreason I write.
We were recently together for three weeks in Buff, you say? Yeah, well… you didn’t know that. Funny shit happened those weeks about which you will never know. Mostly because I’ve forgotten it, and it probably isn’t worth mentioning anyway.
A weekend trip to visit KandyAssicle under the guise of helping a friend move into her apartment is, however, very much worth mentioning–especially on a blog about us.
This picture was taken four years ago. Four years seems like a long-ass time ago.
Oh jeezzie. We were first years the first time we went to NYC together. Actually, it was my first trip to the city at all. Good times. We tried on the smallest hats in the biggest Forever21. We ate all the street food available to vegetarians. We partied with Fuerza Bruta.
This picture was taken this weekend. Better eyebrows. Better hair. Better boobs (probably).
My, how we’ve grown. We are a whole three months out of college. We helped a friend move into her apartment. We used a bathroom in a coffee shop. We laughed about who knows what through a park on the upper west side. We bought dish soap…
Then, the real party started. Changed into our fancy pants clothes in my car–should have turned out the lights before stripping. [“Ahh!! The eyes in the rear-view mirror!!”]
Escaped the insistent stares of pretzel vendors talking on their phones. [“I think they are calling each other.”]
Got into the wrong line at a club. [“Listen, I’m giving you our ONLY option. Cross the road and walk to the end of the block, then cross again and turn around to head back to the club we want to go to.”] Refused to pay the outrageous cover fee for a club that was playing You Shook Me All Night Long. [“I’m not dancing to that.”] Were trapped inside the club; I was frantic. [“Can we get out?!”]
Started a dance party in a woodsy deer lounge. [“Why doesn’t anyone want to dance to good music in this city?”] Complimented by a black man on our rhythm as we danced past a bar. [“No, I’m serious. You guys have legit rhythm.”] He was serious.
Photo-bombed pictures in Times Square–keep an eye out for us on your friends’ social media pages. Switched shoes and practiced our best crazy walks, imitating rabbits, gorillas, and awkward giraffes. Rode all the escalators in Forever21 for a good time. Farted EVERYWHERE. Joined in on some foreign birthday celebration. Gathered people for someone’s ice bucket challenge. [“Gather ’round, folks! Come one, come all!”]
I dared KandyAss to ask a guy for a free pretzel. [“If I buy a Snapple or two, could I get a free pretzel?”] Did not get any pretzels.
Two guys in button up shirts who were from “out of town” asked where they should go and whether we wanted to split a cab. Umm, no. [“If they were better looking, maybe.”]
Danced with people from inside our car, blasting good dance music. 9th Ave is hoppin’. [“WE should be DJs!!”]
We went to the beach the next day. I should’ve taken some pictures. I practiced my discus throw with jellyfish heads. Beaches are like relaxing time warps. Clam chowder bowls are like the nectar of mermaids who sell part of themselves to walk on land for a while.
Another night of partying in Philly. Not as eventful because we started the night out with my bladder bursting. Way too stressful. I was looking super fine in some patterned pants and a flouncy top. Kandy was pulling a sleek, foxy look in her black leggings. We just wanted to dance.
Eventually, we found a few places and hopped in and out, following the music. Kandace had to deal with a mousy man while an African guy tried to sweep me off my feet. He was cramping my dance style, kept asking me about my adventures, so I had to cut that off real quick. [“Oh! Gotta go find my friend!”] He was entranced by the fancy pants. We frequented a few gay bars thinking the dancing would be good. But nobody wanted to dance with us. Go figure.
We never stayed too long in one spot. We start to get uncomfortable when weirdos and old guys are the first to try dancing/talking with us, we turn them down, none of the lookers want to dance, hooking up is expected, etc. Even the gay guy that Kandace started up a conversation with thought that she was looking to get with him. Hello, people?! What ever happened to dancing the night away, getting some mozza sticks at the International House Of Pancakes, and then going home to your own twin bed to rest your dancing shoes? Seriously, kids, get your priorities straight.
Whelp, that’s all I’ve got for you, dearies. Sweet dreams. Don’t let the bastards who assume the sluttiest of you get the best of you. Also, you can get FREE PARKING anywhere as long as you are willing to walk.