BACARDI APPLE, TATTOOS, AND PHONE SEX

There is a tattoo place on Fordham Road called Zues. They don’t take credit or debit cards, which kind of sucks. What business doesn’t have a merchant machine? They’ve been in business long enough to have one. I decided to get a tattoo. I was hanging out with this crazy Italian girl who was a tattoo junkie. I was getting tattoos at 16 years old, but stopped as I got older. Then I started hanging out with Ari and it just opened me back up to getting inked.

I got a ride to the liquor store and bought a bottle of Apple Bacardi. Sweet drinks creep up on you, and boy did this drink creep up on me. I didn’t chase it. I sipped it in the parlor while some guy got his tattoo done. When it was my turn, I was ripped! I sat in the chair as the buzzing sound added to my intoxication. Before I blinked the tattoo was done and I headed home.

Remembering the boy of my dreams…he is a fashionisto. Known for his style, the boy is bad! He’s the guy that you have, but never actually HAVE. You know the guy you speak to all the time, hang out with all the time, but never actually get the label of girlfriend from. I wanted to be his girl, but I was somewhat content with what we had. I was a party girl and everyone knows that party girls get guys, but never “the guy.”

I rang my fashionisto, and he answered the phone as though he had been waiting a lifetime for my call. There is that point of blankness where I don’t know how the conversation went from “hi, how was your day?” to “I want to grab your…” I was saying the nastiest things my mouth would allow me to say. Minutes passed, and he reached his max (climax). I felt so gifted at that moment. A Metropolitan Junkie is good, bad, and ugly. We drink cocktails at 8:00pm and do naughty deeds at 2:00am. At 10:00am we’re up feeding the homeless and at 1:00pm were brunching over mimosas, thankful for the fabulous life we get to live. This is the life we love to live in New York City. My addiction is sweet.