Welcome to MR’s Sunday Scaries Diaries, where we chronicle our post-weekend nerves in an effort to make all of us feel a little less alone as we procrastinate Monday. Below, the Sunday Scaries Diary of MR’s Editorial Assistant, Imani Randolph.
My friend Alex and I are preparing for a night out. Yes, it’s past midnight and we’re still in the “getting ready” portion of the evening. The delay is intentional, though — it’s a routine we established early on in college for two reasons: First, if you arrive “late” to bars and clubs, you actually get there right when things are ramping up — no need to wait for the room to fill up or pass time with aimless small talk. Second, Alex and I are wild procrastinators and we could spend the whole night trying on outfit after outfit, drinking and gabbing before realizing that the sun has already come up. Leaving late gives us the opportunity to reeeeally chat and chill while we take our time getting ready.
I eventually apply some cobalt blue eye pigment to emphasize the fact that we need to leave soon. (You can’t not go out if you’ve just slathered cobalt blue pigment around your eyes.)
We finally make it out the door with our minds set on heading to The Blonde. Approximately 20 steps down the block, I halt and ask Alex to take a few photos of me in front of a parked white Jeep Wrangler that’s coordinating perfectly with my white cowboy boots. “A few photos” turns into a few dozen (I like to have options, sue me).
Along the way, I spot a gal in a cowboy hat at the corner and it turns out to be my friend and fellow JAG model, Molly. She and I are both sporting western-wear and it tickles me to think that strangers who see us probably assume we’re en route to a costume party. She leads Alex and me to the hidden bar in the back of Cafe Select to join some of her friends.
Once again we take to the streets in search of The Blonde — this time as a lively group of five (those drinks at Cafe Select have a kick!). To my delight and her surprise, Molly knows the door guy at the club so the whole lot of us are swiftly welcomed in. But just about as quickly as we arrive, we slink out. Someone in our group noticed their ex-boyfriend in the crowd. Yikes.
We decide to continue on to Paul’s Baby Grand, but lose one member of our crew along the way. And by “lose,” I mean she made the wise decision to call it a night and head home.
Again, almost as quickly as we get in, we decide to leave. None of us can muster the energy to match the rowdy (read: wasted) crowd. Alex and I catch a cab to her apartment.
I am astonished by and frankly proud of how long I manage to sleep in. This used to be a frequent occurrence — back when the majority of my nights out were spent at clubs in the meatpacking district (rather than bars in the Lower East Side). But now my body wakes me by 11 a.m. latest, no matter the hour I fall asleep.
I check my phone and realize Alex texted to ask if I was still asleep half an hour ago. (Mind you I slept on the pull-out couch, so we’re texting with a wall between us like only true millennials would.) Alex says she wants to eat so I spring up and start getting ready before hungry turns into hangry.
We step outside the apartment but don’t make it far because I’m struck by the incredible light streaming in from the hallway window. I begin taking selfies and a few boot appreciation pics. Alex just continues down the stairs — she’s hangry. Whoops.
We arrive at Delicatessen for brunch and commence the age-old debate: do we order something savory or something sweet? I settle on pancakes but almost immediately experience intense food envy. I foolishly didn’t even glance at the sandwich section of the menu and what is everyone around me eating? Mouth. Watering. Sandwiches.
We pop over to Alexander Wang because I NEED to buy this shiny silver hair clamp that looks like it was designed for the cool people who will live on Mars a century from now. Alex got it for herself a few days ago. I’m not normally one to copy, but I can’t help myself, I just want to live out my Zenon fantasy.
After approximately two and a half laps around Soho, Alex decides she needs some rest. Deterred by the likeliness of spending the rest of the night lazing in bed, I decide to take Lousiana up on her offer to see Jonah Hill’s directorial debut, Mid90s.
After the movie, Louisiana and I hop on the train back to Brooklyn and analyze the film from start to finish. In summary, I find that Mid90s — though heartwarming at moments — is an honest look at the posturing and emotional repression that can contaminate relationships between young men. Highly recommend.
Walking home, I almost pass right by a grocery store without stopping, but then I hear Ben & Jerry calling my name. I enter said grocery store expecting to find a pint of Half Baked waiting for me, but no such luck. I go with a close contender: Americone Dream. Can’t complain.
Finally, I return home and figure it’s time to tackle all of the unread emails from my three (three!) accounts. To ease the blow, I watch HBO while I work. Compromise, you feel me?