Here’s my wall of shame.

Note: It contains only the stuff that I can still remember and [...]]]> I’m known to have the alcohol drinking capacity of a 5 year old. Not that 5 year olds drink alcohol. Or maybe they do. Kids are grow up really quickly these days. But that’s besides the point.

Here’s my wall of shame.

Note: It contains only the stuff that I can still remember and stuff that won’t get me fired.

1. This one time I excused myself from a night of wild partying. My excuse? I wanted to watch SnL. On a Friday night.
2. It was my day off. I get up with a heavy head and a bad hangover. I step onto a soaking wet rug. Now in spite of the hazy details that I remembered from the previous night, I was sure I had gotten up in the middle of the night for a glass of water and to pee. What I can’t remember was if I ended up spilling the water all over the floor and/or if I made it to the bathroom. And since my feet was already submerged in it, I was hoping it was water. So I did what any sane/hungover person would do. I dropped to my knees and smelt the rug.
3. Having commandeered N’s phone, my friends and I go on a crazy texting spree. And the unfortunate target of our drunken shenanigans was N’s brand new husband. (On on that note, CONGRATS Mr. and Mrs. B!). Also, try guess which of my friends is a Dick Fuld Jr. loyalist.

   

4. Technically this is not something *I* did. My friend Adi talked me into posing. Not one to refuse a photo op, I gladly obliged.
   

   Had I known that this was going to happen, I would have worn a shirt

5. This happened a few years ago. I wasn’t aware of the debilitating effects tequila has on an empty stomach. So I decide to take my obsession with David Beckham to an altogether new level, by practicing a free kick on a cardboard carton. Except what I thought was an empty cardboard carton, turned out to be a box filled with bricks. Sadly, (sadly?) I was too wasted to realize that and merrily went on my way to Tom’s Restaurant and had some cheesecake. However, the next morning I wake up to find my right toe all black and blue and the size of my fist.

I find it odd how I have amazingly lucid about all the stupid things that I do when I’m drunk but not a single memory otherwise from all the craziness, like how I manage to get home.

PS- When I smelt the rug, it was neither pee nor vomit. Thankfully it was just a leak in my floor and some disgusting water.

So I attended a charity event this evening in New York. It was a fundraiser for an organization called SAYA that is devoted to benefiting South Asian kids from New York City. It was [...]]]> Few things in life are better than getting wasted on a Wednesday evening. Very few things.

So I attended a charity event this evening in New York. It was a fundraiser for an organization called SAYA that is devoted to benefiting South Asian kids from New York City. It was hosted at a club called Greenhouse. All through the week, my friends and me kept discussing over email whether this event was worth our totally precious time, because we’re like all so awesome and like all so busy and oh did I mention that we’re all so awesome that our time is worth like a gigaazzilion bullions of platinum. One of the reasons, we did decide to attend the event was that Greenhouse is an extremely exclusive club and most regular people don’t ever manage to get in. So that being decided, we grab a platter from the dude on 53rd and 6th and hop onto the E train downtown.

The mandatory image that, I realize, adds no value to my writing

The place was exactly how I imagined it would be. Very sleek, excellent ambience and the most ridiculously expensive half priced drinks that made me feel like I was selling my soul to pay for. The crowd was primarily Indian, because, well it was a South Asian Youth event. So yah. Now the reason I have a dismal record at talking to women at bars/clubs is because I feel the need to have a lot of quiet around me to hold a meaningful conversation. Or even to exchange a word. Or two. Now the DJ at the club was real good, but too goddamn loud for a networking event. I mean COME ON! If I’m supposed to mingle with people, AT LEAST LET ME HEAR THEM SPEAK! So I manage to introduce myself after having gotten close enough to make out with the fungus that grows on the wax in her ears, I go like, “What do you think of this place?” and she’s yells, “Vodka and cranberry juice”, and I go, “Hmm.. Okay.” WTF.

After that I’m like, “Screw it. Where’s my drink?” And that is when the awesomeness got cranked up to the max. Because after my Long Island, most of the evening flew by in a wonderful haze that I can barely recall. Except the part when I’m talking to a friend and I’m all, “Hey! Why are you wearing pants?” YES! I’m the undisputed champion of awkward moments.