99 Bottles of Beer, G&T's, Riesling, PBR, & Pumpkin Ale on the Wall...

I told myself this blog would not become a drinking log, for two main reasons:
(1) My life in Boston has been pretty austere to date
and
(2) Drinking logs are only interesting to those who are, well, drinking.

But last night--well rather, this morning, since I got home at 4:30 in the AM--was rather unprecedented, and it seems like we both had late-night weekends. Mine, sadly, did not feature a rooftop bar or flamenco dancing. But this one party I went to did have people wearing plastic Viking helmets and axes (okay, really just one dude, and he stored the URL to our blog in his iphone--eep), and this other dude was named after Lord Byron, and there were just way too many sapphire and tonics involved.

I started out at a birthday party at this Asian-fusion bar/lounge in Hahvard Square called OM. I was afraid it might be too hip for school, but I was actually surprised to find that there were no bitchy girls strutting about in stilettos, or dudes with gelled hair and button downs with the collar popped up. People were actually NICE, despite the fact that I pushed my way past them, clambering to the bar or bathroom. Back in NY, I swear some stupid girl in a halter top would have "accidentally" spilled her drink on me. Everyone at this particular party was either:

(A) Married
(B) of Asiatic descent
(C) a University of Michigan alum
(D) a software engineer
or (E) all of the above

There were also like 4 white dude-Asian woman couples, so at least that was consistent with the usual demographics in NY.

By the time I stumbled out of the bar (the bartender hooked it up with strong--albeit overpriced--g&t's that didn't hit me until I left), it was midnight, and I wanted to catch the T before it stopped running. I was heading to a Swattie house party one stop away at Porter Sq. And can I just say: the percentage of over-educated people per square foot at this party was pretty overwhelming. I'm surprised there weren't equations and sh*t on the wall. Everyone at this particular party was either:

(A) a Harvard government PhD'er
(B) a Harvard medical researcher
(C) a Tufts biology PhD'er
(D) a Viking
(E) all of the above... wait, that doesn't quite work this time around...

I may have been the only right-brainer at the party, though I'm sure anyone there would have been happy to debate the construct of "right-brainedness" with me. Note to self: I am NOT allowed to get that drunk again. I am mortified to think I was "that girl" at the party, listing to one side while babbling nonsense about Fulbrights and novels. I even practiced all of my Dutch with a Dutch scientist couple: Hugo de Groot Straat (Hugo Grotius Street), pannekoeken huis (pancake house), and dank u wel (thank you very much). Needless to say, I was a hit.

I had a great time, though I felt horrible for the kind hosts who offered to let me crash on their futon. Instead, I drunk-dialed 4 cab companies, only to get answering machines at all but one. As I sat on the porch steps waiting for the car to come, one of the guys I was talking with earlier came outside and was like, "You're really funny. We should hang out sometime." In my g&t, PBR, and Riesling induced state, I was like, wow, people in Boston are so nice. Here's a nice gay young fellow, and he wants to be my friend. He even stored his number into my phone for me, since I was clearly too impaired to do it myself. Then I thought about it some more, and I'm like, wait a minute... I had no actual proof that he was gay; maybe he's actually straight. And then I felt mortified again, because I probably babbled something about wanting to set him up with one of the guys in my program.

This morning, I had to run out for a good ole' egg & cheese on a roll, washed down by Ginger ale. I hope I actually make it to the library today, but I should probably wash off last night's makeup first...