24 hours on 3

I went to a loft Party in SoHo last night. I got there at 3am. My friend Brian aand DJ Phil, who I use to do a weekly party with were the hosts. The party was UNFUCKING BELIVABLE! I had so much fun. I danced my ass off. It was a great space. There were sooooo many hotties. I was sociable and approachable all night long. I spent time with my oldest NYC acquaintance, my ex-best friend, Michael, who I love but due to stupid reasons fell out of favor with. It was great to talk to him.

DJ Phil my dear friend for the last 14 years is a demi-god behind the turn tables. I still remember being locked up with him and close friends in my South Beach apartment listening to him spin for hours. I relived those moments last night.

I knew 75 percent of the 200 hundred something people at the event and many I have lots of love for. There were a few losers, but hey what can I do if so-and-so isn’t very interesting or so-and-so’s better half use to give me head? Other (ex) haters, three to be exact, made it a point to come up to me and specifically apologize for their unjustifiable Yusef-hate antics. Importance to mention is also the fact that in the last 24hours, at least another 6 people whom I fell out with have made it a point to call, IM, text/email or walk up and afford me a handshake with an apologetic I-know-I-fucked-up face. Yeah you did, but its all rico.

Most of my closest party friends were present. The majority of my Cuban friends were there. A long ago ex-boyfriend was there and was true to his perpetual lack of self-respect in case(y) anyone happened to have forgotten. We haven’t but thank you for reminding us and I of what a good decision I made that Sunday morning 7 years ago when I asked you to get the fuck out of my life.

I arrived home at home at 7am to a loving cat, 7 texts, 2 voicemails and a handful of Sunday get-together invites. I slept two hours and was awoken by a friend in need of a post all-nighter shower and reminder of ethical behavior for someone who is a friend, in a relationship and more importantly, a tad bit fucked up on party favorites. He came to his senses in two point three seconds. We laughed the faux pas off and I sent him off back to his loving boyfriend, who I do not know and who doesn’t seem to like me as much as his partner would have liked a few minutes ago. One word: Karma.

The phone rang all fucking morning. –No, I will not be attending the barbeque, No, I don’t care how mind blowing-fine the guy who just passed you is, No, I am not at work, No, I don’t want to go to the city, No, No, No. I just want to sleep.

At last sleep, (tic toc tic toc) an hour passes and then the phone rings. NO, NO, NO

I turn on the tube; Puerto Rican Pride is being televised. Fat Joe is one of the commentators. He’s so gangster, -endlessly uses the “word” umm. Umm, I get hungry. I went out for a bite with Jason to Café Bar, my local Sunday dig. I had a frappe which helped with my lack of sleep and a prociutto panino. We walked back to my house for a jacket then to Jason’s and before I know it, it is 8pm.

Back at home, the phone is still going crazy. No, No, No, I don’t want to do any of these things. I just wanted to sleep. And well, it is now 3am and I functioning on 3 hours of sleep. All good though, I am off till Wednesday. I will catch up on sleep.