Men Are Like Wee Cupcakes
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30 Oct 2007 ›
4:45pm
Marina and I took it to the next level and went out for drinks the other night, so I guess we’re now officially friend-friends rather than just work-friends. We went for a cocktail at the Mercer. Sister really likes her men to have both a pot to piss in and a (non-tour bus) window to throw it out of. So it’s safe to say we will never step on each other’s toes man-wise. As I’m sure you know by now, I could give a rat’s ass about wallet size except for when it comes to fashion. Broke is cool, badly dressed is a whole ‘nuther animal. The great thing about the Mercer is that it attracts the perfect combo of money and style – so Marina and I were both happy. Not that I was really shopping. At press time, I’m still way, way into Bloke. But damn – she who hath never pressed her face against a bakery window only to take a deep breath and walk home empty-handed can throweth the first stone.
Anyway, we ended up having a brilliant time. Marina’s willingness to descend into debauchery could possibly give me a run for my money—as she and a gorgeous cat dripping in Dior Homme decided to rent a suite at around 2 a.m. ( I know what you’re thinking—but no, I really think he was straight. Yes, straight and wearing DH!). I cabbed it home solo, and am proud to say that I resisted sending a single drunken booty text to you know who.