It probably wouldn't be out of line to have titled this post as simply "Penis" (which will make sense as you read on) but, being a Libra and constantly at battle with maintaining a balance between the left and right sides of my brain while also having reconnected with my Yellow Aura after a month break from blogging and most other technology mediums, I didn't feel a one word title could accurately represent what was experienced just a couple of weekends ago.
One of my favorite things about New York City is that the nightlife possibilities are endless. You can drop thousands of dollars at the most expensive nightclubs, stumble upon a local dive bar and end up having the time of your life, attend a karaoke bar, visit speakeasies etc. Or you can do what Momo and I did and hit up the Gay Bars.
For a while now Momo and I have been claiming that we are playing hard to get with New York City. Yes, with the entire city, and in an effort to maintain that status - we wanted to check out the swanky, exclusive and notoriously insane gay nightclub, Splash. We got all dressed up in sexy clothes, took a couple of shots of vodka (or 5?) and marched our way up to the doorman (Momo's ass out and my girls doing their thing) only to be REJECTED for not being with MEN. Irrationally shocked and appalled that our female parts were not working on a gay man we swallowed our pride and found two guys willing to escort us inside. Our smiles returned as we walked back up to the evil doorman only to fade once again as we were denied access for the second time.
Just as we were about to declare our night of fun with gay men a bust (pun intended?) we saw another club around the corner and decided to give it a go. We were successful at the door, paid the $20 cover and descended down the stairs to the entrance of the club. There were hot bodied men in only underwear on 2 different stages dancing with poles, men dancing on top of the bar and even some shaking their "thangs" on the dance floor. We took countless shots of Lemon Drops with the bartender and got to witness a Lady Gaga dance off during which one guy (who we later found out was 18) choked himself with a collar. The music and the general vibe of the whole club was so positive and so fun that Momo was able to get me to dance with her. I never dance. After being a part of numerous dancing orgies with these men and consuming several more Lemon Drops shots our makeup almost completely off and our hair plastered to our faces from sweat - we had the brilliant idea to attempt to stalk our favorite gay man of all time. The legen-wait for it-dary NEIL PATRICK HARRIS!
Twitter makes it very easy to stalk celebrities and being that we are both avid users of the program; Momo and I knew that NPH frequently tweets about attending The Box. In short, The Box is a club that serves dinner and provides a variety of live entertainment shows every half hour throughout the night. Some are Burlesque, some are funny and others are of an a-vant-garde nature. We hopped in a cab and got dropped off at Freeman Alley since that is where Google Maps showed the club's location to be. Freeman Alley is a narrow alleyway in the lower east side of Manhattan lined with cement walls covered in graffiti that has a restaurant at the end of it and nothing else. Feeling as though we were doing something totally secretive and excited about the possibility that The Box was located down this random alley, we surreptitiously made our way into the darkness only to come face to face with a closed Freeman's Restaurant and no box. FYI: The Box is NOT down Freeman Alley. Frightened, drunk, confused and laughing at the idiocy of what we had just done Momo and I located the entrance to the club, were welcomed inside and after determining that NPH was not in the building, we managed to snag a booth in the VIP section upstairs.
We found out we arrived just in time for the 3:30am performance so we ordered 2 glasses of champagne (for $55) and waited for the show to begin. Shortly after 3:30 a woman in odd clothes or maybe it was a man in drag came onto the stage and proceeded to perform many tricks that I can only assume to be illegal, if not in New York than for sure everywhere else, and are much too vile to include in my description. I will say however, that clothes were taken off and said performer not only had a very nice penis but had very nice breast implants as well. Momo and I were mildly intrigued but when he/she began to pull strange things out of his/her anal region, we decided we had enough crazy for one night and got the eff out of there.
New York City never ceases to amaze me with the wildly diverse things it has to offer, and I consider myself to be a very well rounded person, but throughout the course of this night I was witness to many things I had never seen before and saw people do things I didn't even know were physically possible. Being pretty had nothing to do with the insanity/survival/luck of the night for Momo and I this time.
It's much more appropriate to say "I'm Lucky I Live In New York City."
