Long time ago when I lived with 2 post-college kids in the East Village, they would like to remind me that the weekends started on Tuesday: "It is Tuesday!" Last night I went out to one of the best tapas places in the city, Tia Pol, to pay up a bet that I lost. A pretty inocuous start to the evening. After dinner, we finished off drinks at the bar; actually, we closed the restaurant down by 12:30. Bet paid off, end of evening ... not. I walked this friend over to a club a few blocks away because she had to return an item she accidentally picked up from the weekend. It was brothers night at the club so she and I were a distinct minority. Hey, it's NYC and no one really cares. Next thing I know it -- and I don't know how -- coats are off and we're on the dance floor among the brothers. I'm not acustomed to clubbing on Tuesday nights, but as my old roomies would say, "It is Tuesday." At one point, I was getting stared down by a very large brother who looked like Ryan Howard (1B for the Phillies). I said to myself, don't stare, keep dancing. He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a Pre-Valentines Hook-up party invitation for me. I gave him the head nod and pocketed it. I'm pretty sure I won't be attending that particular party. The smell of Mary Jane (weed) filled the club air and I'm sure there was some powdery stuff somewhere on the tables or in the bathrooms as well. The rest of the night was dancing and grinding. Speaking of which, tonight is the JT concert -- time to bring sexy back. Then again, I think I started that last night. lol
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