the rooftop continues to impress me, and i constantly unhide my lack of cool by gazing around the entire joint like a big doofus. this is only interupted by my staring at every hot chick walking around; which is every chick. and each one in a wonderfully slutty attire, wonderfullier and sluttier than the last.
a poker face, i do not have.
alyssa, the chick that got is in the place, leads the discussion with her one pal, who is this very cool, very nice 35+ guy named eddie. or eric. ...or something like that. i don't remember.
whatever his name was, not only was he fucking cool enough to pay for
all of our drinks (a tab that i saw later equal $600+). he was just droppin bills left and right, like it was nothing. and, really, to him, it
was nothing.
one of his most recent stories involved him buying
CBGBs. like... you know, perhaps the worlds most famous underground punk place on the planet, and assuredly one of earth's more famous clubs. well, it was in financial trouble for the past two years and was all in the paper, in jeopardy of shutting down.
well, no more. cuz this guy fucking bought the place. like it was a sammidge. frickin awesome.
if i was ever as rich as this guy, i sure as fuck wouldn't be so nice. i mean, geebus, i'm poor as dirt, and i'm a shitbag to most people. but this guy is fucking buying buildings every morning, and here he is paying for strangers' drinks and droppin lil tips on how we could pick up the cuter waitresses.
the whole night ruled. but... as 1 am approached, the whole night had to end, with most everyone needing time to walk off their booze to be at work the next morning. so, we all head our separate ways, down the secret elevators, past the stuffed jaguars, and back to our humble homes.
