story of the week:

saturday night was very long. party for marie in a three-story pearl district loft from nine to eleven, party at liam and jay’s on 17th & ash from eleven to twelve (plus one very hot boy), party at jackie, mike & nate’s on 44th & halsey. i was already tired…and then the last party went until four in the morning.

i realized pretty early on that i would have to drive my increasingly more drunk roommate home. on the ride, he talked a bunch of nonsense and then could barely get up the front steps. i asked if he needed me to put him to bed. he said yes.

i get him to his room and am taking off his shoes when he says “i’m in love with sandrine. her accent is so hot.” (sandrine being the french girl visiting sarah right now). i asked if he wanted to take his shirt off, then started unbuttoning it. and then he kind of growled, “talk french to me.”

now that i’m writing this story instead of telling it, it’s not quite as funny, but believe me, it was classic.

i only know a couple french phrases, and not wanting to say “will you sleep with me” i said “do you speak french” instead. he kind of groaned and i decided it was probably best to get out of there before something untoward occurred.