they pulled my hair at charm school.
they
stole my guestbook during
rolecall.
Breaking the Law at Charm School. Do Not: Embrace Inner Brat + November 24. 2003 = 2 many greyhounds
+ Friday night, three girls in a silver car, FDR to Houston St. Circle the Bowery. Windows down letting in the odd November air. One wants to use the word balmy. Turn onto Mott St. and the shop with frangible lingerie that looks as though it has just been shipped in from some mad-cap designer�s atelier appears to be winking at us. Stop at red light and watch sidewalk traffic wade through the fashion plates looking restless as they smoke outside of line of bars. Find miraculous parking slot on Bowery & Delancey. NYC... city of parallel parking, of skinny pale men with perfect haircuts, screaming taxi-cab drivers at 3 a.m. (Okay, for the record, it is true that Sarah had forgotten to turn on her lights. Thank you, Mr. Loud-Mouth-For-Your-Own-Good Cab Man. Sorry we yelled �You�re Fucking Crazy!� back at you. ) City in which there is a stabbing outside of the club we are at. Watch as Sarah, Jess and Yours Truly knock back grapefruit/vodka tonics & stellas. Watch out for the free round from the bartender. I would like to go back and hand a tiny note with the word �stop now!� scrawled on it to my already drunken self. (For the record: at times, I am an awfully impossible girlfriend. I would like to blame it all on the note beau pressed against van window with his cell phone # on it. On the hott! girls in car who dialed it. On Sarah who told us the story as we were being propositioned by 12 year old boy in cab next to us. But I know that no dinner + free drinks = overactive imagination. ) Beau�s band plays to semi packed club. All names of interested representatives from various labels are scratched off the guest list. The outcome: it�s a toss-up! Worry slightly about bad press from Time Out review. Jacob asks: Who reads that anyway? At Beau�s peel off tights & mod shoes & skirt worn inside out. To sleep in a warm bed on West 11th.
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