Ok, so if you follow me on Twitter, you're already well aware of my TV obsesh (if you don't here's the deal: I'm kinda like Whitney Houston, but instead of crack-n-weed, my vice is Television).
Needless to say, shit has gotten real bad during this winter/holiday/christmas hiatus break while everything is in repeats (and I'm off from work). Yesterday I looked on my tivo's "Now Playing" list and saw the following message:
"Yo, E...I'm bored."
Desperate times call for desperate measures, so after I decided to start watching Dexter on my netflix instant streaming thing we have on Tivo, I got real desperate. See, Dexter Season 1 and Dexter Season 2 were available instantly, but Dexter Season 3 was not. I spent two agonizing days waiting for the actual DVD in the mail (the mail, people!), before I realized I needed a better solution. My solution was vuze.
Ok, so us BALLERS *are* always bitching about:
- babies in bars
- SUV strollers
- bratty kids in restaurants
- mommy/daddy entitlement
BUT, I've never thrown a fucking egg at a BREEDER (or one of their bebes).
However, apparently some douchebag in Park Slope is takin things to just that level...though this douchebag is a puppy hater.
So, for my first fully-employed-look-Ma-Imma-big-girl-now Park Slope New Year's Eve, I figured I'd take a hint from the habits of my Brownstone Slope neighbors and go big: throw a dinner party.
A super fucking classy eight person invite-only dinner party, Slope style. You know, locavore shit, and doing the Maggie thing by purchasing some dirty whore cheese at the Larder.
Let me tell you, my non-Brownstone-owning, non-nanny-having friends: throwing a dinner party in your tiny apartment with about four days to plan is not among the smarter things you can do.
True confessions: I usually read those Daily Intel weekly sex diaries written by anonymous New Yorkers, and I tend to vascillate between thinking they are totally fucking boring or totally fucking fabricated.
I try to include links to the Park Slope ones cause, in case you haven't noticed, I don't get to use our "sex in the slope" tag here all that often.
I read this week's column about The Divorced Park Slope Trader Living Out His Fantasies, and I would like to share the following observations: