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You would think by 24 I would know the fine line between sober and blackout, but I haven’t figured that out 1 p.m.: Wake up and remember nothing about the night.I think I brought someone home though not really sure because he’s not there in the morning.I almost want to ask my doorman if I came home alone last night, but I make the executive decision not to.4 p.m.: Realize tonight is French Tuesdays and that the party is on a yacht. I am currently dating a few to finance my Manhattan meal plan.Midnight: We head to Greenhouse and there is a line down the block, but I know the door guy; coincidentally, he is also the manager of the café next to the investment bank I used to work for. He promptly lets us in and gets us the first round.4 a.m.: The night becomes fuzzy and I black out once again.
Everyone used to work hard, play hard, but the ones still employed are too afraid of getting sacked to have latenights.8 p.m.: Friend comes over to pregame with my bottles from Trader Joe’s (hey, I’m laid off), and we thank God for unemployment insurance because it pays us to live in our expensive luxury apartments with no income.Convince a friend in grad school to have an epic night with me because she has no class tomorrow. I promised myself the liquid diet, but not when you are having a free fabulous dinner at Del Posto. I order the bacon and steak and down glasses of red wine to entertain myself.Mumble an excuse after dinner about not feeling well and having to call it an early night. 10 p.m.: We go to the bar at the Jane Hotel where I stage a surprise meeting with my friend.
Noon: Finally wake up and realize that it’s only noon.
Automatically type into Seamless Web to order the usual brunch. Since getting laid off (okay it’s been six months now), life has been a cycle of drinking, boys, hangover, and Seamless.