Thursday, August 23, 2007

Don't F*ck with us

How did you spend your Saturday night?

I spent mine drinking a bouquet of beers that eventually lead to a soul shaking karaoke version of Journey's, "Don't Stop Believin'." It was a friends birthday party so my live in lova and I stayed out way past our usual 12 a.m.

As four o'clock rolled around, we decided we'd had enough. I can't even tell you if we walked or took a taxi, all I remember is approaching the stoop of our Lower East Side apartment building, and noticing a group of young, drunken vagrants standing in our way. BJ (my boyfriend) went first and said, "Excuse me," as he stepped over a few of them. I followed behind and one of these lovely young men made a reference to Victoria's Secret and then asked me if I wanted a free fitting. In a nonthreatening tone I simply said, "No, I'm good, thanks." This lead to me being called a little bitch and other amazing things by this pack of store brand douches.

We were both pissed and drunk enough to do something about it. After plotting our revenge strategy on the four flights up to our den of sin, we got inside and grabbed the worst liquids we had in our pantry (which ended up being a decent bottle of balsamic vinegar and a shitty bottle of vanilla rum). Come to think of it, we could have made worse things, but it was truly a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. Next we hauled ass up to the roof of our building where BJ scaled the curved edge in order to douse these a-holes with the vanilla-rum vinaigrette. For big tough guys, they sure screamed like bitches when they realized that their favorite Armani Exchange polo's were getting soaked with stinky sky sauce. The hilarity lasted for about 10 seconds until we heard loud banging noises coming from the hallway and realized they were trying to get in.

After a slight horror movie-esque scene of "trying to unlock the front door but the key is not working," we got inside the apartment, secured all 35 locks on the door, and shut off all of the lights.

I fell asleep that night clinging to my cellphone. The next day there was evidence that they got in- garbage from the bar next door was all over the first floor. Outside, there were beautiful balsamic stains on the sidewalk and stoop that proved that BJ is a sure shot while drunk and pouring from a rooftop.

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