cork, 1720 14th street nw, u street corridor, washington dc

my two new and now obsessions: the u street corridor and vampires. what the? i know you're thinking vampires don't really have a place in this blog. but i don't really give a bat's ass about that. humor me, please. i'm gonna give it a whirl, incorporating them. you'll see it's not too difficult for my overactive and fantasizing pea-brain. i'm not embarrassed too much to admit that i wish i could figure out how to bump into a vampire on 14th street between p and u.

[hee, p-u]

so cork. not just any old wine bar. wine bars back in the day seemed like a particularly snobbish trend to some. now the wine bar is as routinely seen as reality tv, leggings and vampires - and, i know you're with me in hoping none of these trends fade out with time.

if there's not a cozy wine bar in your 'hood, well i advise venturing out to explore. here in dc there's a profusion of them to visit and get your drink on. they're definitely my preferred setting.

cork opened up in the logan/shaw neighborhood about 1 1/2 years ago. the girls and i celebrated my pre-vampire-loving birthday there just days after they opened. serving small plates designed for sharing, we experienced lots of goodies that night, as i recollect. so why haven't i been back? pure stupidity with a dash of laziness mixed in, that's why. silly me.

cork was opened by former politicos and couple, diane gross and khalid pitts [who could totally btw be badass looking vampires from the enemy coven - and i mean that in a sickly good way. check 'em out].

i love stories of brave people who leave their old careers behind for a new passion that affects their lifestyles so drastically as this endeavor must. this saturday night, khalid and diane are both running around attending to customers, constantly making sure we're taken care of. charmers they are, especially the sweetiepie, diane.

chef ron tanaka, formerly of cityzen, creates the simple looking dishes which are actually not your run-of-the-mill standards, but instead leave [me] thinking, why didn't i think of that?

i also discovered that tom brown is the bartender. he's the brother of my former colleague, derek brown - cocktail craftsman and renaissance man of the gibson. must've been in their dna. i'm just sayin' there's much more than meets the eye here. cork is a real easy-going place. so if you're thinkin' even for one second it's intimidating to visit a wine bar in this eclectic neigborhood, think again, silly geese.

can we talk twilight for a sec? i know i'm slow to get on board with it, but thank goodness i did not acquire this unquenchable thirst sooner. you mustn't have anything else going on in your life when you get a grip on these books. let me assure you that this teenybopper drama has taken a hold of me like nothing else has, except for cooking, and probably new york. and maybe prada - well and bergdorf goodman's in general. whatever, you get the point.

and thank heavens twilight books are cheap, especially when your friends already own them. this is how i'll justify my comcast on demand charges of watching twilight the movie three times in 10 days.

omg. i know.

i hope i never come across rob pattinson because i too would be puma-pawing him like a 13-year-old. seriously, this girl needs a summer romance like like i needed that winter snuggie.

so that's why i'm out saturday night. it's not too late to activate a summer romance. my friend and i ventured over to 14th street nw. she: looking for a suitable amount of trouble with the goal of escaping the stress of bad relationship gone increasingly bad. me: i respect that plus i always like to toy with new accessories like lampshades. plus i've been holed up with vampire books and movies of late.

yay, cork wasn't jam-packed with oenophiles. [another good thing about having so many choices now on 14th is that they're all just a tad less crowded.] it's cozy, cork. the tiny main room with the bar is where you wanna be, unless you're with a group, or not as interested in opportunities as i am. very dimly lit. the bar, bounded by cubby shelves exhibiting wine bottles in perfect organized manner. cork is comforting and traditional-old in feel but still clean and tidy crisp. i like that. i think it's not easy to achieve this vibe but cork does it flawlessly.

seated in a little booth with prime access view of the room, exposed brick, austere lightbulbs, chalkboards with tonight's flights of wine. our modelesque waitress comes around with every attention on us seconds later. she's very professionally helpful with wine and food questions.

cork features small plates. [insert sound of angels singing] how many things can i try? a lot - very inexpensive plates each implausibly priced from $3-$11. huh?

we opt for the chicken liver mousse with caramelized shallot marmelade. i'm so happyproud of my girlfriend who claims to be a picky eater, though she's always toe-to-toe experimenting with my love of all things liver. we also get a small cheese board served with honey and a drizzle of balsamic reduction. i highly recommend you try the simply titled "avocado" plate. slices of fresh buttery vivid pure avocado served on crunchy warm bread with a sprinkling of toasted pistachios and orange-pistachio oil [i'm guessing]. also, i do recommend the lemon-dusted calimari served with caper remoulade. crisp and warms your heart. here i think i can't be any happier.

well sometimes - you can be happier, friends. yep we sashayed outta there, with minimal financial damage i think - around $90 for the two of us. an unheard-of bargain, no?

[we wanted to pop in to the gibson for a cocktail. as you know, there's no popping in to the gibson - even in august. the doorgentleman took my number and said he'd text me when our table was ready. are they ahead of their time, or what? i later missed my text due to fun i was in the middle of but i'll report back from the gibson another night very soon.]

next door is marvin [not marvin's, as it's sometimes mistakenly referred to]. and directly up to the roof deck. we made instafriends with a few people, including a little version of jacob black for my friend. seriously. so innocently cute and naively sweet he was.

enough about jacob black, though.

imagine the electrifying thrill that nearly sent my heart pounding out of my chest when i got a visual on my own personal edward cullen lookalike. it took all of 8 seconds to craft a reason and nestle myself into his personal space at the bar. and it took all of 3 seconds for him to ditch the ladies he was previously angling to be taken in by the scent of my blood [or my lotion]. fixated the remainder of the night we were.

a tousled-yet product-kissed chaos of imperfectly perfect hair. tall, smooth and dreamy he was and with graceful, cheetahfast attentiveness to my every bar-need. did i mention that he's french? not that it would've mattered. because he was not only stunning to look at, but tirelessly gentlemanly and intriguing. and intrigued.



summersmitten kitten. all caps. i got a few lovely surprise kisses as we meandered around outside after departing marvin. he texted me [the obligatory] three days later.
oh boy. sigh.

pov, w hotel, 515 15th street, nw, dc

at long last, it's open. dc's first w hotel. in all its glory glory hallelujah. formerly the tattered hotel washington - home of the best view in town [available to the public]. me, i don't give a sqeaky squirrel's arse about the hotel itself. the girls and i have been discussing how cool it would be to james brown style getonup to the rooftop terrace after years of construction. how touristy of us. as you know we like to be in the know though. [hey, a poem.]

a big hip hip hip. hooray. what the f took so long for those starwood dudes to bring a w to dc anyway? whatever the story on that, they did indeed procure the primest, fattest, ballin' property in town. and, though i haven't dined there yet, there'a also the jg steakhouse, by none other than jean-georges (our first jean-georges spot here. can i take a moment to ask 1) why did that take so long and 2) do we need another potbelliedsuitwearingman steakhouse in dc? hell. what about our rights to jean-georges genius asian cuisine?

back to the rooftop. everyone knows the former washington hotel had the best view known to [washingtonian] man. from here you can see the white house, all the executive office buildings - some brilliant architecture, the monument, the jefferson and all the way to the burbs. a breathtaking view.

so after months of trying to figure out what to do for one of my best girlfriend's birthdays, the w hotel opened in perfect timing last month and it seemed apropos of a celebration, considering we didn't quite get our $hit together for a trip to australia or greece.

i will say this: in this town, it's easier to pass a healthcare reform bill and confirm a supreme court justice than it is to get a reservation here. birthday hottie planned the party herself as she wanted to include her co-workers as well as her buddies. the w rat bastahd reservationists won't answer the phone so she had to be-bop over there in person one afternoon to speak with someone about space for 30 of her nearest dearest.

they have a weird reservation process for pov. stressing the words weird process. this is a bonus for all y'all's information [that's oklahoman plural possessive for fyi]. see, if i'm repeating this correctly, they take reservations from 4:30 to 6:30 pm, and then again after 8:30. so, if you're a walk-in, they can perhaps seat you between 6:30 and 8:30. i'm sure there's some scientific calculation to this seemingly nonsensical mumbo jumbo. but that's the dealio. do what you will with it. all i can say is thank heavens we reserved space. and i explicitly suggest you do as well.

running a tad late. shoulda taxied. taxi, people - there's no reason in midsummer to drive to downtown dc (through the mall and monuments over to the white house area) dodging the hotdogpretzel-eaters and fbi t-shirt buyin' bozos.

also, you never know what vip is staying at the w or next door at the williard and this can monkey wrench your timeliness. tonight it was the president of iran or someone reasonably important. the po po had f street blocked off and this raucous was using up the normal swarm of valet parking staff for themselves and their superstretched limos.

i'm not gonna bag on the valet guys at the w who perhaps saw this coming but didn't adjust their plan accordingly. when i drove up, idling behind a few cars, i could see there was some kind of cluster-f going on. i patiently waited a few minutes until steam started coming out of my ears. trying to get a handle on the hullabaloo, i put 'er in park and pressed that triangular hazard button [one of the great things about dc is you actually use this little red button in your car a lot. me, i love that clicking sound].

fortunately i was looking tremendously fabulous in a new missoni frock {they were practically giving it away at bergdorf's - mother of all chevron stripes i'm still in love with this dress and am so lucky to have snatched it up}. as you well know, sometimes it pays to feel like a million and one bucks because things fall into place for you in more ways than you can imagine. valet angel facilited my potential parking nightmare faster than you can say "nice shoes, biatch." he could tell my head was about to pop off and he swiftly and kindly said he'd take care of my car so i could join the birthday party for 30 people (yes i told him i was a part of the private party going on - clearly it might not get going til this gorgeoused up vision arrived). kidding. sort of.

all this and i'm still only running 20 minutes behind. nice, yes?

for the love of the not so secret service guarding the building [am i the only one who thinks guys wearing those earpieces with baby slinkies on them are hotter than they would be otherwise?], the new lobby entrance and "living room" as they call it is spectacular. i'm so having drinks here in the winter. a total clash of soho modern sleek with classic italian working in definitive harmony. i'm in love with this grand room.

what i'm not about to be in love with is the line for the elevator to the rooftop terrace. this is a serious warning, my friends: a line of 40 people awaiting their ride on the brass elevator. again, panic nearly sets in. thankfully i hold the ability to text with the speed of a peregrine falcon. as does birthday girl. next thing ya know "elevator hostess" ushers me right through those splendid doors and up i go. if you have this coveted status of reservationed, just speak with little gatekeepergirl in black dress holding clipboard. otherwise get in line with the cattle. and pray to the gods of see and be seen that you get a ride to the top.

the rooftop terrace looks much the same as it did the last time i was here 5 or 7 years ago. only cool. sleek, modern, red loungers, black tables, white and green accents. lots and lots of dressed in head-to-toe-black staff running around. we did get really great service i think, considering how busy it is up there.

i was somewhat troubled that the crowd here would be geographically undesirable [touristy] and ill-fashioned. delightfully not so. there were lots of attractives. i saw several people i vaguely recognized - most importantly a rare creature i'll call a dc-hottie i think know from somewhere, who knows. in my mind i planned to strike up convo with him. "you look familiar, how do we know eachother?" wasn't coming to mind though. rats. birthday girl recognizes him as being married she thinks. ah well, i had too many fun friends to catch up with.

and, due to the sweltering day it was, people are sweating like cochons (that's french for pigs). subsequently, my double-stacked platform patent leather louboutins were pinching my lil fred flintstone toes together, sending a shooting pain through my feet within 15 minutes. crap. managing to look cute while suffering such a cruel level of agony is a challenge. for some.

i can't speak about the food or even what's on the menu at pov; sorry. but who really cares with this type of view and crowd? [oh and huge bonus: bathroom is ginormous, thank you, kind w people.] i can tell you the drinks are fun. after enjoying a couple glasses of bubbly, i switched to this lovely looking and sweet-tart cocktail of fresh strawberries and lemonade with vodka. yummy. as pretty as they are, beware, they're shifty.

how do i know? the fact that birthday girl and i were (hopefully not) seen microwaving burritos at 7-11 later that night should enlightenscare you.

i took my heart to san francisco, final chapta

it feels pretty gross to wake up in your adorable black vera wang lavendar label frock. not to mention it's terribly uncouth. at the ritz. at motel 6. wherever. why am i in 14.5's room [rather than my rain man suite]? great. the walk of shame at the ritz-carlton san francisco. and i don't have a reason to feel shame except i've mistreated one of my favorite dresses. made exclusively for bergdorf goodman's.

quick like a bunny i scurry into the elevator up a floor and back into the cozy and private embrace of my suite without a soul seeing me. lucky again. gosh i keep getting lucky in san fran.

of course there's no real time to relax. 14.5 and i are going for a run. he tried to weasel out with the old "let's have breakfast and run later" strategy. yeah right. wrong donkey kong. in 15 we meet in the lobby, donned in work out gear; he forgets his ipod. and why the hell do i have my purse? am i planning to run with black gucci? think not. clearly we're having trouble today getting it together. brain cells were damaged last night, no dispute there. regrouped, we're in a taxi to the marina. plan is to run to the golden gate and back. approximately 6 miles. impressive, no? it's a great way to avoid a hangover. it is. a little tired, but it's invigorating because it's cold as hell in may in sf. perfect running weather. gorgeous setting, passing families and runners and doggies at the beach. who gets to do this? lucky me, that's who, suckas.

later that day we meet up with another of 14.5's friends. really cool dude down from marin. we're off to a great place recommended by none other than cool wife from last evening. bar jules. this casual bistro with new york attitude is my kind of place. a bottle of wine and yummy food [me i had squab with polenta and cherries] in our tummies, how is it possible it's time to get ready for tonight?

what's on tap for tonight is baseball. st. louis cardinals at san francisco giants. i love a baseball game [not on tv - in person]. i'm happy to report that i didn't freeze my arse off because i broke out the jeans and sweater at last. more of 14.5's friends met up with us. i don't have much to say about the game. i chatted the entire time like a girl. the stadium was freakin awesome, dude. there. there's my baseball knowledge. and the giants won. and our seats were kickass. and i got a yummy hotdog.

i coulda looked at all of this surrounded-by-friends business as a romance-killer, but if you read chapta 4 you know i'm keen to this situation and there wasn't any romance to kill. moreover, i was totally and completely delighted and won-over by friends. this boy has a lot of friends. i respect that and believe that people with lots of good friends usually make for good friends. these guys are cool and fun and funny. after the game we decide to embark upon what might be the silliest thing i've participated in lately. notice i said might. we headed to bar none specifically for beer pong. i happen to like a rousing game of beer pong. who doesn't? this bar was incredibly disgusting [see cap lounge review for other gross bars i frequent]. hole in the wall would be a step up. once i saw the bathroom, i was wishing they had port-a-potties. sadly i never got to play beer pong. not sure how that happened. perhaps it was because i was enjoying the company of my newfound friends.

stumbling back to pimpdaddysuite, for the life of me i can't remember what happened next. [sorry because i know after all this reading you want details but i remind you that even if i could i don't dare share because that wouldn't be ladylike.] i know there was some browbeating on my part and i'm sure i mentioned the word rebound. or karl [the mailman] malone. and some such childish discussion of who knows what that led to his getting one of my 10 pillows and heading to the sofa in the parlor of my suite. we had our first/last fight i think. see? i'm not perfect.

i don't really know where i'm going with this or how to wrap it up. 14.5 years is a long time to not see someone you didn't know in the first place. i haven't the foggiest if this was a date weekend or just a friend weekend. or a let's see weekend. sometimes it's just good to have a good friend. 14.5 put himself in the friend box because that's what he can manage right now. the good thing is i have a new old friend. $hit, could i mention the words "good" and "friend" more in one paragraph? crappy writing. my brain is fried.

i took my heart to san francisco. i didn't leave it there. for me it would be easier to accept that i wrecked something than to know this has nothing to do with me. [control freak?] in life timing is everything. this i know. i get the sense i'm not gonna see 14.5 again. for a long time. oh and i'm real sad to leave my baller suite at the ritz even though it was a tiny financial speedbump.

i'm really happyproud that once again, i can't be accused of not giving it a whirl.

60 thompson, new york, a weekend in the city, sans food

food isn't always my number one priority when i leave the house.

sometimes i like to shop. when i'm not busy caring about food i'm thinking about clothing myself. well.

my friend and i took a quick jaunt to the city last weekend. just us. we booked a room at swanky, star-studded 60 thompson, a boutique hotel in soho (you may have seen it featured recently in the rachel zoe project on bravo - love her, by the way, in an "i wanna be her for halloween" kind of way). my friend treated me to a belated bday blowout. love her too, by the way. we went all out, starting with the hotel. www.60thompson.com

we took a seriously early flight outta dc at 7 am saturday morning. sounded like a good idea at the time, maximizing time in nyc. whoa that's early. we got there at 10 til 8 and we were at the hotel by 8:15 am, looking probably like eager-beavettes, but who cares?

the people at 60 thompson are fabulous. head-to-toe in black cute boys greet your taxi, whisking your bags from your hands before you can feel the stress from your sickly overpacked bag which is holding enough clothes for a week when you're staying only one night.

mike, doorman, was a perfect gentleman, and so perky for that hour of the morning. {what's he on? i need somma that}

they also let us check in at this ungodly hour; how cool is that? ahh this recession sometimes has its positives. [got the room for a real deal too, relatively speaking]

mike brought up our bags and made himself at home in our tiny but stylish room while he asked us our plans for the night. we didn't have any plans. the plan was to not have a plan this trip. no reservations, no tickets to a show, no schedule whatsoever. the plan was to shop, drink some bloody marys, shop, grab a bite, go out. wake up, repeat, leave town. that's it.

this sweetheart of a sweetheart said he'd be back momentarily with a list of places we should check out that night. sensing his ability to be perky 'round the clock, i stressed that fact that we weren't thump, thump clubbers. he himself was going to a brazilian dance club. i heart new york because you can find anything there. they probably have an oklahoma line dance club somewhere.

or not.

we set out pretty early, grabbing some java and headed down the street in hopes of a manicure/pedicure. what else can you do that early?

just after that, we tried to hit the shops of soho, only to find they don't open til 11 am. damn - the city that never sleeps sleeps in on saturdays. to bergdorf goodman it is, we said, as we hopped into a taxi. off to 57th st and 5th ave it was.

but first, a cocktail. we went to a spot i know from a new yorker i went out with all last summer. not a great weekend spot, shelly's, situated less than a block from bergdorf goodman's but i knew they had yummy bloody marys. spicy and filled with lots of goodies floating around and a big, fat shrimp perched on top. hello new york. we had some oysters, which were fantastic. then a waiter came around with fresh-outta-the-oven focaccia bread, flatbread, biscuits, etc. free, all free. as much as you want.

who said nothing in life's free?

on to bg's. my friend needed a new tote for work. she's really responsible and sensible with a goal in mind. walking into bergdorfs is like walking into heaven for me. the sky opens up and i can hear angels singing.

hmm what do i need at bg's? (nothing really, i just paid off my neiman's card which was a wonderfully freeing experience.)

well, maybe i do need a clutch. all i have are ginormous handbags - no really cute clutches to speak of for going out on dates (and i plan to have a lot of dates real soon). all of a sudden i had a goal. one should always have a goal while shopping or you can get into some serious financial trouble.

we split up. i encountered a rude salesman (why the f is there a man in ladies handbags? unless it's tim gunn or carson kressley i don't want a man trying to outfit me with a bag). he tries fairly hard to sell me a carlos falchi bright blue crocodile clutch that's unquestionably adorable. i really saw myself enjoying that this summer. well it was $750.

i'm not paying $750 for a clutch - it's too expensive for me, i say, sadly. {really it's not exactly what i'm looking for is the problem.}

"that's a great price for a clutch," he says, condescendingly.

look here, mister, i don't give a rat's ass what you think about "great" price. does he not see the bigger-than-dallas balenciaga i'm carrying? clearly i'm ok with dropping an arm and a nut on a bag. sheesh. does he really think that i'm going to be persuaded to buy a clutch because he says it's a great price? i got the hell out of his "area" because i felt he was trying to make me feel inadequate. he doesn't get it.

i be-bopped over to find my friend who was chatting it up with a much more pleasant sales associate who was also getting out from its case a whopper of a gucci tote. darling, you'll have and love it for years and years to come. it actually was a great price; for a clutch, a bag, a tote {a vespa}, whatever. a great price. sometimes i wish i had a job so i needed a bigass tote like this one.

what? ex-squeeze me, is that a cute little gucci clutch whispering my name? oh yes, it is, indeed. soft as can be and oh so sweet, and sensibly, black with the signature bamboo closure and tassle?
well 10 minutes later we each had our bags wrapped in be-purpled bergdorf bags.

and a list of recommended restaurants to hit from our lovely sales lady. i wanted to tell the big dumbo over in carlos falchi that i got a great price on a lovely clutch, sans attitude. fool.

on our way up to 5F, "my" floor, the elevator doors just happened to open to the shoe salon. do you know what shoes they have displayed on tables you practically trip over as you get off the elevator?

christian louboutin.

it's just not fair. all just standing around like whores on a street corner, rubbing up against you, asking you if you're in the mood for a good time. that kind of selling tactic should be illegal. well i've never purchased a pair. i don't need them. i barely go out, i don't have a job requiring heels. it's so frivolous.

10 minutes later i was the proud owner of my first pair of louboutins.

sexy, no?

up on 5F, nothing too raunchy happened. i'm a sucker for all things theory and vince - very casual and easy clothes. i made a couple "small" purchases and we made our way over to henri bendel, my friend's favorite store.

i too love bendel's except for two things: one, you get mauled when you walk through the door by salespeople; and they're good. i wonder what kind of class they take. i think if you've sold at bendel's on the first floor you should be able to get a job selling anything. these people are amazing. {note: really the reason i don't care for that is that i always buy a bunch of products i don't need and i'm never gonna use - makeup}.

the other thing i don't like is it's so confusing upstairs. mostly because i'm so flipping directionally challenged. i don't get it. i'm not gonna explain it. go and figure it out and if you can; good for you. i know i'm retarded with both directions and math - i admit it.

as we walk in the door they're having an AG Jeans [adriano goldschmied] extravaganza. in my defense, i think i mentioned if i needed anything this trip, aside from my clutch, perhaps it's a new pair of jeans. i happen to love ag's. they always fit my arse, no matter if it's small or even when it's a little bigger than i like it to be.

jackpot.

did you know ag jeans is making these hot new boyfriend jeans? you can get them distressed in all levels: 5 years, 12 years, 25 years? (25 years supposedly exclusively found at bendels)

i can't mention how much they are because sometimes car payments are less. and that's just crazy.

i purchased a pair that had been distressed 25 years. man, do these look like they've been through hell. i love them because they remind me of old school levi's 501's. my friend bought two pairs. plus jean shorts. plus a jean skirt. ag is her best friend now. [why do i feel like she's making smarter purchases than me?] we are truly buffoons at this point.

a linebacker tackled us in makeup, of course, exactly what i was afraid of. the same white-spiky-haired, butchy woman who sold me a couple hundred bucks of freeze 24/7 last time i was there stopped my friend and started the whole, "look years younger in one minute" schpiel on her, while a jersey girl had me in a chair for a make up "touch up".

for the love of jesus joseph and mary. i looked like a hooker when she was done with me. i'm not kidding. this is why i dread makeovers. everytime i caught myself in the mirror afterwards, a shriek came out of my mouth. i just don't wear that much makeup.

i'm so proud i only spent $89 with jersey girl.

upstairs, my friend had the courage to try bikinis on while i wandered around in circles getting lost. as usual. i couldn't find anything i liked there, being lost and all, except i happened upon a table of goodies for pets. huh? yes, even philippe benefitted from this trip.

philippe is now proudly wearing a henri bendel collar. he looks gayer and frencher than ever.
love that handsome lil guy.
(philippe models his new accessory)

(yes, he loves it, goes so well with his coloring - he's a winter, for sure)

after this exhausting trip we needed a bite to eat and then a nap, plus we couldn't carry anything else - we were bogged down with a lot of [stimulus] packages. we slept til 9 pm, got up, refreshed ourselves and headed to our ultra-exclusive hotel bar, thom bar, downstairs on the 3rd floor. already bustling with models, euros and other hotties, drinks served by little black dressed waitresses, we were lucky to grab a table. it was still early at 10 pm. very quickly afterward it got packed. uber swank and just a cool place to see and be seen.

you know you can only get up to the bar if you have a room key (or slip the doorman a cool $50 [$100?], as my new york boy did last summer when we came here for drinks on the kickass rooftop bar - not open in march - i should add). we had two champagnes each at $17 a glass, but were only charged for one.

see all the freebies you can get in ny?

we didn't meet anyone here and decided to walk up the street to a recommended spot called cafe noir. two blocks one way and up a block another, we're here. we snag a seat at this bar. cool vibe - we think - maybe/maybe not. either way, we're here, let's get a cocktail. a rugged looking chap next to us says this guy's the best bartender in town {clearly a regular barfly}. we opt for cocktails and since he's the best bartender in town, i tell him to surprise me with vodka and something not too fruity. i get my drink and with the first sip nearly cough it right back up it's so stiff. guy next to me says, he might be the best bartender in town but he can't make a drink.

hmm weird. that would never work in the world of food.

i had to get my drink adjusted, poured into a taller glass, and lots of soda water added to it. it was still awful. we chatted with chap next to us for a while, had a snack with him and headed back over to 60 thompson. we were exhausted.

and by the way, barfly took care of our tab. more freebies in the big apple.

as we approached our hotel, a couple of gentlemen stopped us and asked us if we'd like to head to another bar with them. um no, we're not getting into that taxi. my louboutin-ed dogs were barking and we definitely wanted to wake up at 60 thompson the next day, no matter how cute they were. we talked them into joining us for a cocktail up at the thom bar. well this fine fella, called za za, is charmed by me, for some reason. could be the new ag's, the louboutins or the new gucci clutch (what a fool i am wearing all my new stuff out at one time - hee, i love it). he kept trying to kiss me at the bar, even though i'm telling him i'm not into pda.

really i'm not into over-agressive, ny-accented, personal space-invading guys called za za i think. he was really nice though so i indulged him with a couple of kisses. the guys left later and we headed up for some room service and bed time.

next morning we or, i had an adult-sized bangeroo of a head-ache. my friend, she never gets hangovers, lucky biatch. we showered and made our way out to the shops of soho after checking out with the again, overly sweet folks at 60 thompson. we shopped again, til we dropped.

at olive and bette's we had a minor spending spree on over-priced-but-super-cool t-shirts - the e.vil tees with horoscopes. here's mine.

it says,

Relentless. Opinionated. Belligerent. Good-Humored. Authentic. Individualistic. Visionary.

Zsa Zsa Gabor. Rosa Parks. Charles Darwin. Balenciaga. Mozart.

pretty cool, no?

I dropped a fortune at calypso, as well. purple dress, silk/cashmere scarf, black cashmere shrug, clu t-shirt, amongst other items.

you think i'm crazy? well at least i didn't buy the gold clutch with bright blue lettering: EAT CAVIAR.

do you know how cute that would've been? i love caviar.

i'm doing my best here, people, to stimulate this crappy economy. i think it's safe to say i took one for the team.

we also found a great little treasure of a store called madewell. well it's a treasure because there are steals to be found. the clothes actually don't fit though they look cute on the skinny-ass mannequins, they look like hell when you try them on {after a bit of research i find they're part of j. crew - a lower quality, clearly, like old navy to gap to banana republic}. i bought the biggest slouchy hobo you could ever find though - for a total deal. i could fit inside this bag, if i was that flexible.

after spending all our money and before we started feeling guilty about it, we popped into a charming little taco joint for some tacos and perhaps the best damn bloody maria ever - made with jalepeno tequila and a bunch of other juices. oh my. i took the recipe from the waitress and will be using it to impress my friends.

we decided we'd try to get out on an earlier flight but we had a little time to kill so we wandered in and out of a few more boutiques. off to the airport we realized, sadly, that time had sprung forward though, and we were going to be sitting at the airport waiting for our original flight for about two hours. ah well.

there's always airport shopping.

i heart new york.