Well well well, here we are again. Another Monday that makes me want to do nothing but like Instagrams like this one all day:
I'm right there with ya girlfriend. But I had another great weekend so I can't really do too much complaining over here. My Saturday was pretty epic. Then again what day wouldn't be epic when it starts off with someone making you a personalized breakfast the minute you wake up?
After scarfing that down it was time to head to Central Park to go row boating. Half of the reason for this is because I actually wanted to go row boating in Central Park and be all The Notebook like. The other half of the reason for this is because I put it on my 2013 Bucket List and needed to cross it off.
Regardless, the place is called The Loeb Boathouse and it's located on the lake right in the middle of the park around 72nd St. This would be the same lake that Carrie and Big fell into in an episode of Sex and the City for all you SATC lovers. I decided to avoid jumping into the slimy green lake and stick to rowing, though. Wait, that's kind of a lie. I didn't do any such thing as row.
I decided to sit my lazy ass in the boat and take selfies...
While this hunkfest put in the actual labor for an hour.
Hunkfest. Holy ballz. I just went there. And I think that's as far as I'll go because I'm going to keep the shirtless version of that pic to myself and show you a couple more of the lake instead. Muahaha.
Looks pretty gorgeous right? I highly suggest making it part of your NYC adventures if you live here or ever plan to visit. The actual boathouse is gorgeous and has a ton of outdoor seating for food and drinks if you just want to wine and dine instead of row. There's also a gondola you can rent out and have an Italian dude paddle you around in if you don't have your own hunkfest to do it for you.
After Central Park we headed down to Tribeca to see Passion Pit. The concert was held on a pier on the Hudson River so everything was outside and open and beautiful.
There were some pretty killer views of the sunset as well as some pretty killer prices for beer and wine. I don't know about you but I'm feeling
twenty two like I will never, I repeat never, pay $9 for a dixie cup sized amount of wine. Like you know those ones that sit in a dispenser next to the sink so you can use them for teeth brushing purposes? Yeah those. Okay I'm exaggerating a little but still. That shit is more cray than Kanye in a leather skirt. I'm pretty sure I judged every single chick who suckered their idiot boyfriends into buying them wine instead of beer.
Oh NYC, how you rob me. You're lucky you provide me with gorgeous scenery to blog about and Instagram.
Oh and then there was yesterday. A day I've been waiting for since January. A day that should've been given round two of the Geico "guess what day it is, guess what dayyy it is" commercials. Because it was the first Sunday of football season and I was more pumped than a New Jersey gas tank. That is until the Giants dropped the ball. Quite literally. About six times to be exact. And that's all I have to say about that because I'm still moping and crying Gretchen Weiner sized tears.