The Pit of Dispair...

...would be the East Village. Gone are the cool hipsters/artists, in its place is the dull frat boy and the sorority trash that screw them. I went out with friends Saturday night to the LES and East Village. Granted it was Saturday night, which in itself is such a retarded time to go out in this city, but expected a good time none-the-less. All in all, it was rather dull. It seems the life of the party left right before we got there, because it realized that the party blew chunks. Guys bumping chests, girls sloshing drinks, the trendy bartenders totally disinterested. Everywhere. I was generally amused by the whispers and looks we got by said bunches of people. I assume we looked out of place, or completely shocked by their behavior. By half past midnight it was obvious no matter where we ended up it was all a big fat downer. So what does one do in such situations? Well, I brought the party to us. Well, my apartment actually and what a humdinger it was! Gay boys and the fruit flies that love them, sassy chics and the artsy boys that love them, butch lezzies and the lipsticks that love them, intellectuals and the ones that listen to them. I swear there had to be 40 people in my place and everyone was having a rad time. Draped over the sofas, sitting cross legged on the beds, on the stairs, hanging out the window. Not one copper was called and there wasn't a huge mess to clean up. Made out with this hot chic, while her boyfriend looked lustily on. It was surprisingly easy to misbehave and host at the same time. I would say I would plan another one, but I think it was best that I didn't in the first place. I haven't been terribly spontaneous in a long while and I kinda missed it. Today, I am going to continue my spontaneity and do something completely random. I think I will start by hitting up the Yemeni restaurant down the street. There was some shady characters in there the other day, and by golly I want an adventure!