What you think youre better than me?

I remember a specific instance last summer I went out with Liv, just me and her one night, doing the whole lets go have fun yada yada cool bar thing.
We differ on this one topic about "going out."
Liv is perfectly ok with waiting in a line and bullshitting with a doorman to get in somewhere.
I am amazed by her self control and ability to talk anyone into agreeing that SHE should be in THERE. Now-ish.
LA LA so LA! Yaaaaaaay! There are many thing about Liv I am baffled by but certainly admire.
Meanwhile I stand near the street with my ugly little scrunch face, chain smoking and rolling my eyes and muttering about fags with Napoleon complexes.
Then when I walk in, I always have to make a new bitchy face or say something quasi-rude for the doorman to remember me by. Great job.
Point is, last night I had to relive the thing I hate most about the scene.
Which is this: People overestimate their own importance.

I was having a wretched day, once again I panicked on the train on the way home from work and almost threw up everywhere. I had that fucking hot neck and face syndrome where like, you are pretty sure at any moment you are going to actually die. And you think your sweating but you're actually not and your face turns gray and then you decide that god is a dick.
Anyway I get home and take a shower, awesome, good fix. Have a drink with Sam and Alex, and we take a car over to Harifs art thing at the Tribeca Grand.
The photo setup is total bullshit, that place is not good for displays.
Once again, this gathering fell into the "trust fund girls who are very skinny and over dressed" category. Lots of very high heels and expensive dresses paired with dirty fingerless lace gloves and ratty hair. Unappealing.
Whats with the whole "RichStreet" look?
I kind of hate it.
Just be rich and proud. I would be.

Anyway, the video in the screening room was pretty lovely I have to say, Harif did a really good job editing and filming and the overall feel was surprisingly gentle and sweet. What the fuck do I know, I was just pleasantly surprised.
Whatever, we drink some of this crazy gin/cassis/lemon concoction that was the tartest taste my buds have ever encountered and we head out to meet Jiwonji.
Chiara leaves which may have been smart of her.

So we go to eat at Lucky Strike and Bing! see Pia on a date with a dude from Las Vegas! I don't have anything funny to say about that, it was just a weird coincidence. Anyway, I had the best bruscetta I have maybe ever had and drank some vodka and scared Alex telling him about how much I love to be mean to nice people. Jiwonji is the only friend I have who agrees that the two of us should have to right to date assholes for as long as we want and no one should be ballsy enough to say, "Hey, bad idea."
No shit bad idea. Thanks for the priceless tip.
Whatever, Adrain and Fan came back after disappearing, Himes came to meet Liv and ate a burger faster than anyone in history ever has.
It was actually a lovely time and all, we got to do gossip time and eat and be squished in a tiny table.
The following sentence is written to make Liv happy and to remind everyone that I am not a bitch:
I HAD A VERY NICE TIME AT LUCKY STRIKE WITH MY FRIENDS. NOT EVERYTHING IS BAD OR BORING OR CRAPPY OR DOODOO OR PATHETIC OR ANNOYING. I LOVE MY FRIENDS BECAUSE THEY ARE VERY SPECIAL AND TIME WITH THEM IS BLESSED.


Needless to say, my idea of taking awkward pictures at the table came out perfectly awkward.


My gossip partner and I hate all the exact same people.


Alex is a darling. Literally.
I think we should talk about their CD soon. ALOKEALOKEALOKE.
Nice artwork supplied by the hands of Hannah Hooper.
Great job.


This is when I stopped taking pictures.





Sidenote: Liv and Sam went to dinner there once and there was an old dude fingering his trophy girlfriend at the table directly next to them and everyone could see what was going on and his arm was knocking the bread basket.
I am really jealous I wasn't there to tell the story first hand with super innapropriate detailing.

Whatever.
The point?
We are losing folks.
Liv and Hiyme go home to fucking snuggle like the happy shitbrains they are.
We walk over to the afterparty garbage at Antik.
This is where I ask that you pay attention.
I HATE ANTIK.
I hate the people going in.
I hate the door guy.
I hate the decor.
I hate the dancing downstairs.
I hate the idea of it being overcrowded because Aoki is DJing.
I hate that I heard a girl say, "Hey...we are 6 hot girls just going downstairs to get drinks...you better let us back up!!"
I hate that I met a super gay dude there who pretended to be straight for me and wants me to go thrifting with him. (PS he left because he got a text to come to Beatrice. Nuff said)
I hate that I felt like I was in a mysterious city where the Hamptons was mixed with LA mixed with pergatory. (Not hell because that would be way dramatic, there is no booze in hell I'm pretty sure of that)

Wait it gets better. I just looked it up on Nymag and THIS was the only reader review:

"This is what NYC has been waiting for. The upstairs is like your private VIP room. It's like going to one of VIP rooms in the hottest clubs. With 8-10 tables and a killer DJ its partying with your friends in a private location. I suggest table reservations. We tried to buy a table by walking up and they were sold out. So we came back with a reservation and rocked out until 4am."

Oh my god. Killyourself. Rock out til four am then thrust a knife into your head. I truly hate you Antik and Antik reviewer Brian_NYC.

So here we are, Thursday afternoon, I have a new thing to hate, its raining outside, and all I can think about is what in gods name will I eat for lunch on the way to work.

That reminds me, conversation of the night:

Krissy: Seriously I started making one of those lists in my head. You know, like, what you want in a boyfriend. I am thinking everything in greater than/less than terms. Like he must own greater than one leather jacket, but less than 3 blazers.

Sam: Wait, isn't that backwards?? Thats ridiculous Krissy.

Jiwonji: I just have two things (holds up fingers)
One, he has to be funny.
And two, he has to buy me food.

Krissy: Good call.