This is Art.

My second attempt to go into the city was better than the first that day. Our plans were to meet on the train and walk over to this place – see what this whole silent auction was all about.

At the Manhasset train station I ran into two girls i graduated with – both very, how do i put this… hot. They are the fun party girls – one of whom I can dance Greek with and fully pull off Greek, and the other i’ve always admired as a comedienne. There were lots of boots and dangly earrings and I contributed to this whole thing. On the train I looked for my Armenian entourage and there they were in the next car. i wished my High School girlfriends a pleasant evening and moved on to the next car with the girls with printed stockings and high heels. I have issues with those t-shirt/dresses – they’re just too short to be dresses. I still wear them though. Life’s tough.

All we wanted to do was dance – drunkdance. And Dane Cook was never mentioned, which I thought was a bold step. (no offense, but some things need a break – overquoting something/someone makes me aaaaangry. Unless it’s certain things.) I wondered, what if we danced too hard and knocked over art on the tables. That would be… awful/horrible/ironic.

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