18 Sep 2007 › 12:10 pm
So last night, Ali and I went to see her friend Camille’s trapeze recital in Williamsburg. I know you’ve heard me bitching like crazy lately about how all the boys are dressing in the burg, but what can I say? Loneliness prevailed. I guess I figured (correctly as it turned out) that wherever there’s a poster advertising cute, tattooed girls on the trapeze, cute boys are sure to follow. It was ridiculous! Besides myself, Ali and Camille’s roommate (who barely counts, as she was stuck behind a video camera all night) it was wall-to-wall dudes. The recital itself was really fun, although some of the girls were a little bit tragic. (Note to aspiring trapeze artists: please, for the love of God, find the time to squeeze in a bikini wax – for the people!) Camille was awesome and unbelievably cute. The only refreshments were beer and cotton candy, which gave everything and everyone a warm fuzzy glow (I guess from the vicious sugar high). So as you may have guessed, I didn’t leave empty-handed. I took a super dashing Englishman (ok, guitar player but English nonetheless) back to my place where we proceeded to make out for 25 minutes until the cotton candy wore off and we fell into separate, but equally paralyzing comas. It was perfect. Hyperglycemia as birth control, who knew?
