This Is How Two Girls Live in Manhattan

As I give my nails just two more minutes to dry, I thought it important to record the disgusting state in which I live.  If looking at this scene makes you want to run over here and put it all away, please do, because I'm clearly too lazy to do it myself.

I'm going to a bar in Tribeca.  Wait.  Let me look at the invitation again.  Scratch that.  I'm heading to a lounge.  On a Saturday night.  You can't tell because it's 10:45 and dark out, but just so you know, YES, THE SKY IS IN FACT FALLING.

Something sunk in recently.  As much as I detest the art of going out, the gesture of getting out there for special occasions far outweighs my desire to stay tucked at home.  It's worth it even if it means traveling an hour to spend just a half hour physically parked at a bar among people in heels and hair all did up and cologne and thudding music and yuppy strangers and well, you get it.  Peace out.