My best friend from home who I have known since before I was even born (as in our moms were friends while both pregnant with us) was in the city for the weekend visiting. Apparently I'm just one lucky little lady to have been with my blog besty Whitney for five days and then my IRL besty Meghan for the next three. I didn't hate it. Until Sunday came around and the depression set in. But we're going to rewind the VHS back to Friday night before we get there.
If you can remember that far back, I was driving the struggle bus after having stayed out until three am last Thursday night. The entire day was kind of foggy and I was dead set on boycotting anything to do with going out Friday night. But as soon as Meg texted me "Mexican for dinner?" I shot off the couch, managed to semi get myself together, and head straight to the chips and guac. I could probably go for Mexican on my death bed. And she somehow got me to drink a glass or two of sangria. How I don't know. But that's about all that went down (literally) Friday night.
It was an absolutely beautiful day here in Manhattan so what else does a New Yorker do than flock to Central Park? Nothing. Unless you're day drinking or hungover. So to the park we went. I was all about getting an ice cream cone because I somehow had made it halfway through June without having one. So obviously that was our first stop. Making Meg's boyfriend take pictures of us holding our ice creams while uncomfortably sitting on a boulder was the second. Let's just say you probably should avoid climbing on boulder while in a mini skirt. It's not really a good look. And it doesn't feel like one on your tush either.
After the cones were finished we got bored pretty quickly. There's only so much you can do in the park if you're not laying out trying to get sun in Sheep's Meadow and we all know my body doesn't need any of that after my bender in Florida. So we moved on to the drinking portion of the day because that's the only thing I know how to show people who come to visit. Touristy adventures? Yeah no, not my thing.
So we headed downtown (wayyy downtown) to the Beekman Beer Garden. It's a pretty neat place that sits on a pier on the East River right by the Brooklyn Bridge. There's tons of seating and a sandy area that has a bunch of plastic couch-like things to sit on (and meet creepy dudes on). Plus there are outside bars. Duh. Expensive outside bars, but they are there nonetheless.
Next up we had Stone Street aka yet another place to go drinking. This one is also pretty awesome because it's somewhat hidden from the outside world down near Wall Street. It's sort of like an alleyway between two streets of bars and restaurants. So you can enter all of the places from the actual street but if you walk all the way to the back you'll head on out into land of picnic tables and fifty dollar pitchers of margs. This is why you go to Stone Street for happy hours during the week so all the briefcases can throw cash around at you like it ain't no thang. Except you aren't naked on a pole. You're clothed on a picnic bench. Win.
We ended the night pretty early after heading to a whiskey bar that seriously had about ten pages of the menu filled with different whiskeys and scotches. The place had about forty different types each with a spread of every single age complete with my favorite perfectly square ice cubes and not so favorite hefty ass prices. Good thing I wasn't drinking. All I needed was a cigar and I probably would've grown balls right on the spot.
There's no better feeling than waking up on a weekend morning after not drinking (okay barely drinking) and getting a good night of sleep. No hangover means my body wakes up at the crack of dawn yet my brain doesn't completely hate me for it. Instead of pounding and crying out in pain it smiles and says "Good job Erin, you're really growing up." It also allows me to be insanely productive. I cleaned the entire apartment, went grocery shopping, banged out some blog things, caught up on a couple shows, whipped up a delicious chocolate/peanut butter/banana shake in the blender and called Mr. Kim (the daddio) for Father's Day...all by 1:00pm. This is what I like to call success my friends. I think I'll do this no hangover thing more often. I'll let you decide if that's a lie or not.