singin' dolla dolla bill ya'll

I was invited to a Christmas party at someone's loft on the LES a few nights ago. I took the 6 down and waited outside of the building for my friend to arriva via cab. (still a few blocks away) It was in the low 30's and although he offered to call up his friends to buzz me in, I decided to wait.

Through squinted eyes, I saw a sleek, black Maybach 62 (one of the top 10 most expensive cars in the world) pull up to the curb in front of me. The folded cream blindes on the back windows mechanically slid to a close and a dark, mafia-esque man emerged from the backseat. It was obvious I was waiting outside the door of the building and as he pressed the buzzer, he turned to me. "There's a party, are you coming?" * "Actually yes - I'm just waiting on my friend" * "Psh, it's cold out here - come up with me."

Enter: my new friend and I are greeted by 10 or 15 well-dressed foreigners. I say "foreigners", because they were all from various international places. The loft is dim and candle-lit. House music moans quietly from a flat screen. Shrimp cocktail and brie sit on a nearby table and a handsome man with sweeping brown hair is pouring a foamy fruit cocktail while wearing a scarf. Hello. I just stepped into an episode of Sex and the City. In addition to this, there is no possible way that I could stand out more. The upside to this is, of course, that international people are the most open-minded, easy-going people you could ever befriend.

"Would you like a beautiful, sexy drink?" -- this is verbatim.

Don't mind if I do, mister scarf-wearing-sweepy-espresso-hair.

So, I join my new friend on a black leather couch and I learn of his yacht in Miami and how he watched this year's tree lighting from his apartment above Rockefeller Center. We laugh synonymously about how I'm making what he probably made last week. More people arrive and so far I have met: the starving Jamaican model who is throwing the party, a Harvard graduate who is a tad bit cocky and seems to be putting forth an immense amount of effort to impress, a few Italians (the real, not Jersey kind), a quirky Swedish girl who made the most incredible facial expressions I've ever seen, and a gay couple who looked like they were upset they had to leave the gym in order to be at this party.

My friend finally arrives and we stay until we decide we are hungry. When we leave the building, the Maybach 62 is still sitting outside - running. Must be nice, having a driver.

Cab it over to Yaffa Cafe and it was there that I had my first crepe ever.

Cash rules everything around me.

AHK! IT'S SNOWING!

It's 23 degrees outside and I just woke up to this: (I know, I'm such a Southerner...)