Oh yes, Presidents Day. Yet another meaningless holiday to keep me far, far away from the hells of my cubicle walls. As I lay in my bed watching Barefoot Contessa, I contemplated what exciting Presidents' Day-like activities awaited me.
Grocery shopping? mehhhh, I've still got 2 days worth of frozen eggrolls, not to mention oodles of 'oh, poor you... no valentine AGAIN' chocolates from my mom, aunt and lesbian best friends.
Laundry? I'm doing well with the pants, and I can make it until Thursday if I wear my 1996 ghetto, hole-ridden, Hanes-For-Her period panties. No one gets ass between Monday and Thursday anyway... right? hmmm.
The gym? Oh, wait. All out of sports bras! My sneakers are getting... worn? My toe hurts! I just straightened my hair... 4 days ago.
And then, just like clockwork... Sean called.
"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!!!!! OH M'GOD, that married man from Hot Or Not texted me last night... do you think I should fuck him??"
I couldn't have asked for a better wake-up call, unless of course it was from Mr. and Mrs. Hilton informing me there was a mix-up at the hospital and that I am in fact Ms. Paris and i better start packing for my brand new billion dollar apartment complete with an in-house Starbucks barista, personal trainer, sushi-roller extraordinaire and an Amex with unlimited credit. mmmmmmm.
Whoops, sorry. Getting back on track...
After discussing the pros and cons of sleeping with a secretly gay married man (Pros: big arms, hairy. Cons: Also enjoys vagina part-time), we decided that the perfect solution to a Presidents' Day activity was to embark on something cultural... something New Yorky, something NOT in Murray Hill... and most importantly, something FREE. Ohhh the joys of entry-level media jobs.
Sean suggested the Guggenheim, which sounded alcohol-free and right up my alley for a Monday afternoon cultural event. I was saving myself for Tuesday, you see. Mardi Gras open-bar, compliments of who else? Horizon Media Inc!
So I dressed myself appropriately for the lovely Antarctica we are currently experiencing, and met him outside of Grand Central. We hitched a ride via the 6 train to the beautiful Upper East Side, and I waited patiently outside the museum as Sean chugged the rest of what he has dubbed 'The Ghetto Latte' (grande coffee, shot of cinnamon dolce syrup... shortly followed by a dump the size of the Bronx)
We made our way through the revolving doors, and came across an extremely hideous line and an even more hidous admission price of $18.
18 BUCKS?! We looked at each other with a look of utter disgust. Doesn't the Guggenheim know what our broke-asses can buy for that amount? As we stood in the warmth of the lobby, we ran through a list of purchases better suited for our money.
Let's see... 3 Gin & Tonics, NINE Ghetto Lattes, a shirt from H&M....a box of Trojans AND a spicy tuna roll!!!
We re-wrapped our scarves and headed back into the cold.
I suggested painting pottery, and yes... confusingly enough the gay man vetoed.
Sean suggested assorted 5th Ave shopping. I reminded him that would most likely cost more then 18 smackers.
I suggested laying in my bed, eating more frozen eggrolls, watching The Simple Life and searching the world wide web for potential jewish lovers.
And then came the best suggestion I've heard since my sister recommended I wax my eyebrows in the eighth grade (Thanks Sar!)
CANAL STREET! Yes, it was the perfect solution. Thoughts of fake Dolce & Gabbana and skeevy, deceased chickens hanging in windows flooded my head as we made our way back to the 6.
After making it downtown, I realized my bladder needed to be relieved. I silently cursed myself for not peeing in the beautiful cleanliness of the Upper East Side, and began a wild search for a nearby toilet facility.
Burger King? 6 old ladies ahead of me. 3 of which may need to change their Depends. Takes TOO MUCH TIME away from my cheap china shopping!
McDonalds? i have to BUY SOMETHING? I scanned the menu for the addition of dumplings to the dollar menu, crossed my legs to delay any premature urination and moved on..
FINALLY, yes finally we came across a Starbucks. only 2 people to go! Lady #1- pees like a champ! she's in, she's out! Lady #2- possibly European. Hands her coat and purse to her lady-friend before entering like she's about to run the New York marathon. TAKES AT LEAST 7 minutes in the bathroom!!! Perhaps she chose the Ghetto Latte?
Boom-Shaka-Laka I say, because I managed to buy a glorious pair of green aviators that I haggled from $5 down to $4! Take THAT Guggenheim!!! I am plus 14 bucks!
Sean, on the other hand bought a $10 watch, and a $10 pair of F-Prada shades, leaving him $2 in the hole but infinitely more attractive to the gay community of Manhattan!
We basked in the thriftiness of our purchases all the way back to Murray Hill. Sean jumped into my bed, and I microwaved veggie egg rolls and edamame. We watched The Real Housewives of Orange County, feasted on Asian cuisine and said thank you to all of the political figures who made our day of culture possible!
Until next year, Mr. President...
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