The Model Party was a preposterous delight. I am certain that some of the people attending were important somewhere -- however, it was never made clear to me just where that 'somewhere' might have been. And obviously a large number of them either a) did not read the fine print on their invitations, exhorting them to "Dress Sexy!!" or b) somehow developed the mistaken impression that a baggy grey waffle-knit long-sleeve shirt qualifies as such. I take great comfort in knowing that our happy posse-of-four was decked out in the finest show of sartorial splendour in the place. (Not that I am particularly SURPRISED by this fact, of course.) I am also quite pleased that our dancing skills surpassed even those of the hired go-go-girls...although I should mention that this statement does not amount to much, as for some reason the go-go-girls were go-going to a different beat than the music that was actually being played. And speaking of the music, at one point Sir Mix-A-Lot made an appearance on the playlist (which amused StyleGirl and I to no end), and when Depeche Mode came on, for some reason Finn and I were the only people on the dance floor. I guess the DJ decided to give something to the gay white boys. Oh, and also, the fellow for whom this party was being given was nowhere to be found. Color me shocked!
Interestingly, I had been to this same club once before, in the company of 'Zona, for a CD release party. It had much the same vibe of people pretending to be important then, too.
Afterwards, Finn, StyleGirl, JW and I headed south to a bar called South, wherein I belatedly discovered that I was so mightily intoxicated, so thoroughly smashed, so completely out-of-my-head-due-to-a-vast-vast-vast-quantity-of-Jack-on-the-rocks, I could not speak. I could, however, stare and grin goofily at our little company, until I finally managed the mental fortitude to slur/utter the phrase, "IthinkI'mgoingtogohomenow," somehow caught a cab with Finn, and hiccuped (yes, I *hiccuped* like a little drunk-red-nosed-man cartoon) my way over the bridge and through my door and onto my bed, whereupon I promptly passed the fuck out.