Canal St and Sex Toys
My Saturdays are usually the same. Wake up between 12 and 1. Watch a movie on U.S.A and crochet. Read a book. Eat dinner. And then go out and get smashed. Occaisionally you can throw in work, church, and shopping. This past Saturday was one of the most adventurous Saturdays I've ever had.
My mother, sister, and I woke up around nine and left for the city at ten. We then proceeded to ride the subway to 4th st. to go visit the NYU campus so I could figure out how to get to my classes. For some reason when we got off the subway my mom walked down a flight of stairs to another level of subway, and I was like if your trying to exit a subway, why would you go down?? Anyways, we figured out how to get there and it was pretty easy. The only problem was that we couldn't go into the library because you needed a student i.d. Good way to keep the homeless people out and crazy mothers complaining that they have to use the facilities. I must say the Bobst Library is HUGE (they gave me a snooty attitude for pronouncing it wrong, however.)
We then proceeded to walk over to Canal St. for some knockoff shopping. They sold these little baby turtles that were sooooooo cute, but my mother said "no." I would probably kill them anyways. SO as we were walking down Canal St, a whole bunch of vendors and "vendors" were tempting us with Coach, Burberry, Chanel, Prada, watches, DVDs, and the list continues, even a few spare radio parts. A man came up to me and showed me a picture of a Louis Vuitton, and my mother asked if he was selling me drugs.
Finally, a young woman wearing a baseball cap came up to me and asked me, "Do you like Coach?"
"Yea, sure." I answered.
She led us into a shop that was selling jewlery, bags, clothing, as well as some other knicknacks, when she led us straight into a white wall. She went straight up to the wall and opened a "secret door." The door led us down to a dark and dirty basement, and it was at this point that my mother freaked out.
"No!!!" she began to pull my arm away from the doorway. "No!! We're leaving!"
"No, no, no. Nothing to be scared of. It's ok," the woman said trying to calm my mother down. She was probably afraid that my mother was going to bring the cops in. She called to someone in the basement, and a young woman appeared in the stairwell. "See, it's safe."
Basements always remind me of safe environments. I told my mom it would be ok. Relax. We continued down the stairs with my sister dragging behind. The basement was packed with shoppers going in and out of little rooms buying pocketbooks, luggage, sunglasses, etc. My mother then began her shopping hiatus. She went from drama queen to bargain queen. Trying to make deals with all the vendors. Although her tip to me was always, "Just ask five dollars less than the asking price." Wow. Good tip. Unfortunately, the pocketbooks were all crap. I did by a pretty decent Coach, but when I paid for it the ladies were laughing and speaking in a different language. It reminded me of when I used to get my nails done and the Asian ladies would talk to eachother, and I would laugh with them even though I didn't know what they were saying. The ladies in the basement were clearly saying, "This one is a real jackass. And she needs to pluck her eyebrows."
The rest of the day mainly consisted of walking, almost getting run over by hustlers escaping the cops, buying a prom dress for Michelle, and riding the bus back home. Ahh, which continues the second part of this story: the Sex Toy Party.
Now, while I was at college I went to a Passion Party, which consisted of taste testing flavored massage oils, numbing creams, "fun-filled" games (we had to unscrable words and the hostess mispelled masturbation), and well dildos and vibrators. At this most recent party well, let's just say it was an experience. A few times I felt sick to my stomach. I will end the sex toy party here, because I realize I don't need to offend anybody with my honest review. However, the rest of the night continued at a bar in Pearl River, where my friend Ellen pushed me into a dance off with some spanish girls. According to my drunk friends, "my white-ass schooled those bitches." I don't think so. These girls were pulling my hair and grinding really close to me. I think they were hitting on me, so they let me "win." I then proceeded to dance with this guy, who happened to be the brother of one of our friends who turned 21 that night. So, let's just say I had a few drinks (and a car bomb) and we started to dance a little closer. After a few innocent little pecks on the lips, I walked away like the tease I normally am. I try so hard to play coy.
I went up to my friend Seana, "Yo, that kid Bryan and I kissed."
And my friend Seana says, "Um, he has a girlfriend."
My response: "Dammit! What the hell!" And I cried for roughly a minute.
So we ended up in the bar next door, with two people passed out in someone's car. We sat in a little booth chatting away finishing our drinks, and myself trying very, very hard to ignore the guy with the girlfriend. Unfortunately, my friends decided to go check on the passed out victims and left me alone with the guy with the girlfriend. I sat at the booth staring into my vodka cranberry and occaisionally looking out the window which faced a brick wall. So Bryan (guy with girlfriend), slides over into my booth and at first just sits their and smiles with his drunk, glazed eyes. Apparently, that did it for me and I became "that girl."
Overall, a long Ssaturday, filled with illegal pocketbooks, cheating, dancing, and well me getting into big trouble the next day. But, that's what happens when you don't come home. First and last time as I told my father.
K
P.S. I only became the "Kissing other girl." When we got back to my friend's house I instantly fell asleep after hiding under a blanket.
My mother, sister, and I woke up around nine and left for the city at ten. We then proceeded to ride the subway to 4th st. to go visit the NYU campus so I could figure out how to get to my classes. For some reason when we got off the subway my mom walked down a flight of stairs to another level of subway, and I was like if your trying to exit a subway, why would you go down?? Anyways, we figured out how to get there and it was pretty easy. The only problem was that we couldn't go into the library because you needed a student i.d. Good way to keep the homeless people out and crazy mothers complaining that they have to use the facilities. I must say the Bobst Library is HUGE (they gave me a snooty attitude for pronouncing it wrong, however.)
We then proceeded to walk over to Canal St. for some knockoff shopping. They sold these little baby turtles that were sooooooo cute, but my mother said "no." I would probably kill them anyways. SO as we were walking down Canal St, a whole bunch of vendors and "vendors" were tempting us with Coach, Burberry, Chanel, Prada, watches, DVDs, and the list continues, even a few spare radio parts. A man came up to me and showed me a picture of a Louis Vuitton, and my mother asked if he was selling me drugs.
Finally, a young woman wearing a baseball cap came up to me and asked me, "Do you like Coach?"
"Yea, sure." I answered.
She led us into a shop that was selling jewlery, bags, clothing, as well as some other knicknacks, when she led us straight into a white wall. She went straight up to the wall and opened a "secret door." The door led us down to a dark and dirty basement, and it was at this point that my mother freaked out.
"No!!!" she began to pull my arm away from the doorway. "No!! We're leaving!"
"No, no, no. Nothing to be scared of. It's ok," the woman said trying to calm my mother down. She was probably afraid that my mother was going to bring the cops in. She called to someone in the basement, and a young woman appeared in the stairwell. "See, it's safe."
Basements always remind me of safe environments. I told my mom it would be ok. Relax. We continued down the stairs with my sister dragging behind. The basement was packed with shoppers going in and out of little rooms buying pocketbooks, luggage, sunglasses, etc. My mother then began her shopping hiatus. She went from drama queen to bargain queen. Trying to make deals with all the vendors. Although her tip to me was always, "Just ask five dollars less than the asking price." Wow. Good tip. Unfortunately, the pocketbooks were all crap. I did by a pretty decent Coach, but when I paid for it the ladies were laughing and speaking in a different language. It reminded me of when I used to get my nails done and the Asian ladies would talk to eachother, and I would laugh with them even though I didn't know what they were saying. The ladies in the basement were clearly saying, "This one is a real jackass. And she needs to pluck her eyebrows."
The rest of the day mainly consisted of walking, almost getting run over by hustlers escaping the cops, buying a prom dress for Michelle, and riding the bus back home. Ahh, which continues the second part of this story: the Sex Toy Party.
Now, while I was at college I went to a Passion Party, which consisted of taste testing flavored massage oils, numbing creams, "fun-filled" games (we had to unscrable words and the hostess mispelled masturbation), and well dildos and vibrators. At this most recent party well, let's just say it was an experience. A few times I felt sick to my stomach. I will end the sex toy party here, because I realize I don't need to offend anybody with my honest review. However, the rest of the night continued at a bar in Pearl River, where my friend Ellen pushed me into a dance off with some spanish girls. According to my drunk friends, "my white-ass schooled those bitches." I don't think so. These girls were pulling my hair and grinding really close to me. I think they were hitting on me, so they let me "win." I then proceeded to dance with this guy, who happened to be the brother of one of our friends who turned 21 that night. So, let's just say I had a few drinks (and a car bomb) and we started to dance a little closer. After a few innocent little pecks on the lips, I walked away like the tease I normally am. I try so hard to play coy.
I went up to my friend Seana, "Yo, that kid Bryan and I kissed."
And my friend Seana says, "Um, he has a girlfriend."
My response: "Dammit! What the hell!" And I cried for roughly a minute.
So we ended up in the bar next door, with two people passed out in someone's car. We sat in a little booth chatting away finishing our drinks, and myself trying very, very hard to ignore the guy with the girlfriend. Unfortunately, my friends decided to go check on the passed out victims and left me alone with the guy with the girlfriend. I sat at the booth staring into my vodka cranberry and occaisionally looking out the window which faced a brick wall. So Bryan (guy with girlfriend), slides over into my booth and at first just sits their and smiles with his drunk, glazed eyes. Apparently, that did it for me and I became "that girl."
Overall, a long Ssaturday, filled with illegal pocketbooks, cheating, dancing, and well me getting into big trouble the next day. But, that's what happens when you don't come home. First and last time as I told my father.
K
P.S. I only became the "Kissing other girl." When we got back to my friend's house I instantly fell asleep after hiding under a blanket.
posted by Kerri @ 11:21 AM
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